


Half my Life

by AnnaNSmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 10, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's mark is steadily getting more control over him and it seems there is nothing that could alter the course of his fate. Burning the candle at both ends, Sam is determined to find a way to save his brother. His search leads him to Cain, only to find out he has to make a sacrifice in order not to lose Dean. He would do anything to save him, but who is to say Dean would want to live with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My soul and my soul alone

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic early in season 10, consequently, my take on how the issue with the Mark of Cain is resolved is quite different. Several events that occurred in the canon storyline will not conform with my story. Just wanted to let you know. Enjoy!

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies – Aristotle

 

Dean was being consumed by the mark of Cain more and more and Sam could feel him slip through the cracks even though he was trying everything possible to stop it. There wasn't a lore he hadn't read, there wasn't a book in the Men of Letter's bunker he hadn't researched, and there wasn't a rumor he hadn't followed. There wasn't anybody who knew better than Sam that his brother's fate was inevitable. It was just a question of how devastating that fate would be.

And still he didn't give up. He continued his fruitless search from the first ray of sunshine in the morning until long after the black carpet covered the sky at night. He would find a way. Never again would he lose his brother to the supernatural. And if he was good at something, it was research.

After days and nights buried in books and papers, heading out to question celestial beings, psychics, witches, demons, university professors, priests, and even occultists, he finally had a clue he could follow.

It took Sam hours to reach the small wooden cottage deep inside the mountains, deserted and miles away from civilization. But here he was and he wouldn't go away until he found something that could save his brother.

“Who are you?” A gruff voice echoed from behind.

Sam spun around to see the man he had been looking for these last couple of weeks and he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved, nervous or, frankly, afraid. After all he was currently facing the Father of Murder, Cain.

“My name is Sam Winchester,” he introduced himself, steeling himself for whatever this situation was going to unfold into.

“Winchester?” Cain looked him up suspiciously.

“I am Dean Winchester's brother.”

Recognition was evident on Cain's face. The name of Dean Winchester was all that needed to be said for him to know what the stranger was here for.

“You came here to ask me to remove the mark.”

“Can you do it?”

“I told him the mark came with a great burden. He should have listened.”

“He did it to kill Abbadon. It was the only way.”

“Oh, I know about my knight and how out of line she had become. So I gave Dean the mark, but everything comes with a price and whether he can pay it is not my responsibility.”

“You have to do something! It is tearing him apart! He became a demon! And even though he's cured now I can see how the mark affects him, how it slowly swallows him! Soon nothing will be left of my brother and I can't let that happen!”

Cain regarded him closely, deliberating Sam's words.

“Told you, not my responsibility,” he finally responded and turned his back on Sam.

“Why are you not helping him?! If you can remove the damn mark, why wouldn't you?! He will lose himself soon enough. I can feel him snap any time now... And then, what exactly do you think Dean will turn into?! He will become another Knight of Hell. He will become another Abbadon! That's what you want?! You'll just live here and ignore it just like you did before?! You have the chance to make things right now... I'm asking you- no I am begging you, save my brother. He's everything I got, everything I ever had... He doesn't deserve this. I've never been half the brother he has always been for me. Always sacrificing himself for me... Just this one time, let me make things right! Let me protect him!”

Cain could not deny Sam's words were honest, nor the love he held for his brother. He knew something about protecting your own brother. To what extent you were willing to go; for all the wrong reasons and for the few good ones. That same determination was emitting from every fiber of Sam's being now.

“It's too late.”

“What?”

“I can make the mark disappear, but with it disappear all effects the mark holds on your brother,” Cain explained. “Every effect.”

“I don't understand,” Sam stuttered, a terrible gut-wrenching feeling overcoming him suddenly.

“To have become a demon in such a short amount of time must mean he died. The mark turned him into a demon prematurely, because his host body expired. By turning him into a demon he could keep his host alive. Removing the mark means consequently removing that effect. Without it your brother turns back to the way he was without the mark's interference.”

“Dead,” Sam concluded forlornly.

“Yes.”

Sam shook his head, not wanting to believe it. He finally found Cain! He finally found a way to remove the mark! Only to be told that it was useless?!

“I'm sorry, son.”

“If I find a way to keep my brother alive, will you remove the mark?”

“There is no way-”

“If I find a way, will you remove the mark?!”

The man watched the desperation burst out of Sam and he knew everything he could give him now is that tiny hope to hold onto. Even if he knew it was useless.

“I will,” he promised.

“Good... good, because I will find a way. I will find a way,” Sam said more to himself. He couldn't let his brother die. He would do anything to prevent that.

 


	2. Can't see beyond the heartache in my soul

If the weeks prior to Sam's encounter with Cain had been a constant unhealthy obsession with books and journals or any kind of literature regarding the supernatural, now was a hundred times worse. The intensity with which Sam was browsing through the archives was making both him and Dean crazy. Sam barely ate anything, was mostly getting his nutrients downing coffee and energy drinks and the only times when he slept nowadays was when he fell asleep on a pile of papers, still sitting in the library. Dean couldn't watch it anymore. It was a constant battle to fight the mark's influence, but Sam's obsessive behavior left him worried enough to keep him a little bit distracted. Perhaps that was the reason why he hadn't lost it yet. Big brother mode was still stronger than the urge to slaughter everyone around him.

“Sam, you need to eat!” He bellowed.

“M'not hungry,” Sam just muttered.

“I don't care! I'm gonna make you some real dinner now, not that military survival crap you've been chucking down, and you will eat it, you hear me?!”

“Now it's 'military survival crap'? Dad-”

“Dad didn't have you eating the barest nutrients on a daily basis in mind when he introduced us to the Marine survival kit! It's for when you're deserted somewhere deep in the mountains or desert, it's not meant for someone who has an actual kitchen, damn it!” He barked. Trying to control his rage, he took a deep breath and continued on. “But I guess you might have forgotten, seeing how you haven't left the library in days for more than the occasional bathroom break. And dude, you might wanna reconsider taking two minutes longer in there to take a shower. You reek.”

“You don't get it, Dean! I don't have two minutes! I don't have a minute to spare when I could be spending it to find a way to save you! I can't waste any time sleeping or cooking when we're running out of it! Don't think I've not noticed you calling Crowley, telling him all kinds of lies that you're rid of the mark to get the blade back! Or how you cuff yourself to the bed at night, because the nightmares are messing with your head and you're afraid to lose control! How you lock yourself in the bunker, because you know the moment you step outside you'll start a blood bath worse than the one before! I know, Dean! I can see it! And maybe you've given up already, but I haven't!” He tried to get his breathing under control after his outburst. Dean just looked so lost in that moment, it broke his heart all over again. “I haven't given up, Dean. So neither should you. We'll survive this, like we always do. We're the Winchesters, remember? We've beaten the odds on more than one occasion,” he said, smiling weakly. “Just let me do this. Please.” Sam's trademark sad puppy eyes were working over time, but they were as successful as always. Dean sighed and nodded, giving in at last.

“But you're still gonna eat! I'll do the cooking, you can eat it while working, if you insist on staying. And if I let you keep on doing this, you will have to let me keep making you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You're gonna pass out in no time otherwise. This is how far I'm willing to compromise!” Dean said sternly.

“Sounds fair,” Sam complied, smiling somewhat grateful and then grimaced when he recognized Dean wasn't lying about his odor. “Er- I'll grab a quick shower.”

“Thank you,” Dean replied strongly.

Sam hurried to his room to grab a change of clothes and then headed to take a promised quick hot shower, before he went back to his work station. Dean was still cooking and by the smell of it, he was going all out for a decent warm meal since Sam finally agreed to eating.

The library was a mess. Books and papers were all scattered around, making him realize that from an outsider's standpoint this looked like a crazy person's place. It had desperation written all over it. No wonder Dean was so worried about him. Maybe he should at least try to appease Dean's concern. Eat without so much fuss, clean up a little bit more, and let this place look more presentable. He could do that, cut back on a little bit of sleep in exchange. That was not what Dean had in mind, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice time he could use to work. Sleep it was then.

He picked up some of the books that were scattered in front of them, studied their cover and decided to put them back, if they seemed useless to him right now. He held an issue of the 'The intricate Soul – A comprehensive study into the human soul (Vol. 4)' in his hand and wondered from which book shelf he had originally taken it from. Browsing through the rows of literature, he halted at the section containing further books revolving around souls and various monster's anatomy. He had briefly read them at some point, but the gross description of a wendigo's digestion system had put him off this library's area very quickly.

Searching for the other volumes, he made his way further down the aisle. The library had a rather large stock on studies around everything concerning souls, whether it was human souls or souls from different kind of beings. The topics varied from the composition of the soul, to the redescription of a soul in cases where one's soul had been sold and was starting that point considered a fallen soul; there were books about their durability, about the separation between soul and body (well, Sam had thoroughly covered that topic), there was even literature that covered the entities of soul mates, the dispute around their existence and the controversy about soul bonding.

'Soul Bonding – A connection for forever'

Absentmindedly he picked up the book in front of him and skimmed through the index, flipping to a certain chapter after something had peeked his interest. He read the first passage to himself.

 

_Soul Bonding for life-sustaining purposes_

 

_As thoroughly described in the chapters beforehand, the human soul can be bound to another, often practiced by spouses or lovers. However, in some cases soul bonding has been used to prolong the life span of someone else, commonly family members or close friends. Under standard circumstances soul bonding will merely bind two souls together, allowing the subjects involved to connect on a far more emotional level than otherwise humanly possible. A prerequisite is, however, that the subjects are compatible, as some fellow researchers argue, the bond will only be successful on the basis of the subjects being soul mates. The theory is still unfounded and highly controversial. Nevertheless, the general consensus appears to be a high compatibility between the persons involved as the genesis to soul bonding. However, there have been reported cases of soul bonding with the purpose of sustaining life. The bond is purely created to share one's life force. By binding the souls together, one person's life force can be split and forwarded to the other. Albeit, there is no evidence a person's remaining life force can be actually halved, preliminary findings encourage this theory as there seems to be an actual improvement in the sickly counterpart of those who resort to soul bonding. Furthermore, similar to regular soul bonding, the individuals have passed on after one another within a narrow time frame. Nonetheless, there seems to be a significant difference between these two types of bonds._

_Method 1 (regular bond) – If death is caused by natural circumstance (we presume due to the expiration of life force), the partner deceases shortly afterward. If death is caused prematurely (e.g. accidents), the partner also passes away closely afterward. Presumably due to grave sadness, seeing as the bond would have intensified consisting emotions and the ubiquitous need to be with the partner at all times._

_Method 2 (soul bond for life-sustaining purposes) – If death is caused by natural circumstance (again we work under the premises that the life force expires at this point), the partner deceases almost exactly to the same time, in most cases at the same day. Additionally, in comparison to regular bonded couples, they die much earlier in life, supporting consequently the theory that a person's life force can be shared. How many years people, who soul bonded under method 2, have left varies; it is in direct connection to the age of the person who shared his life force. Thus, a twenty-year-old with a life expectancy of another forty years, deceases around the age of forty. Interestingly, the partner's age apparently is not an issue in this situation. For example, if that twenty-year-old shared his life force with a person of older age, the latter usually surpasses the average age of death, living an out of the ordinary long life. If death is caused prematurely, the partner often continues to live on within the remaining years he has received (or has left) when the souls had first been bound._

_That said, there have also been cases, in which the partner dies shortly afterward regardless. This seems to be in connection to the compatibility. Likely a result of a mix between method 1 and 2, when the life force is sustained on a loved one._

 

Sam's heart rate had picked up while he had read through the passage. His hands were trembling with the hope that he finally had found the key to save his brother. Haphazardly, he picked up every book to the topic of soul bonding and almost ran back to his desk, tripping twice on his way.


	3. I can hear your soul crying

After consuming every book related to soul bonding, Sam grew more and more hopeful. If the spell was done right, Dean would stay alive even after the mark had been removed, continuing to live on on Sam's life force. The timing was crucial however for Sam's plan to work and he had to talk to Cain, before they attempted the bonding. Another concern was to find an object of connection which was needed for the soul bond. The spell had to be put on two objects having a symbolic meaning for the two partners. In most cases wedding bands were utilized for this spell. In Sam and Dean's case this was not an option though and so Sam had to keep looking for something fitting.

This was, however, not his main concern. Once he and his brother had soul bonded, everything was going to change. The literature mentioned Sam and Dean would become so co-dependent that they might literally not be able to live without each other anymore. It was an extraordinary commitment which couldn't be undone afterward. Pining over each other for the rest of their lives wasn't something he was looking forward to, it sounded extreme and, frankly, unhealthy. Of course if it kept his brother alive he would put up with anything, but who was to say Dean would even want to live on like this. Not to mention he would deprive him of probably half his life expectancy. The obvious next step would be to ask Dean himself how he would feel about all this, but that was something Sam couldn't do. Dean would never let Sam shorten his life for his own sake. It was surely a deal breaker. But Sam was just so much afraid to lose his brother. Again. Yes, he said he wouldn't do anything to repeat the ever going cycle of self-sacrifice to save each other's lives. But that was then, when he was angry and guilt-ridden about the Gadreel situation and it was always easier to say this, when it didn't involve him being left behind alone. After his brother had died, he realized quickly that it was all just bullshit. He would give up his life for him anytime. And even though those words sounded all heroic and altruistic, they were actually selfish and self-righteous, because he didn't want to be left behind, he didn't want his only remaining family to die, he didn't want the only constant in his life to just vanish. He just didn't want to live a life without his brother, was that such a bad thing?

“You going somewhere?” Dean asked Sam who was just putting on his jacket.

“I'll be back in two days, one if I don't stop for a motel,” Sam replied and grabbed one of the books to store it in his bag.

“Where're you going?” Dean regarded him warily.

“Montana.”

“What's in Montana?” Dean pursed his lips, one eyebrow raised.

“A lead,” Sam kept it vague. He couldn't tell his brother that he had found Cain already a couple of weeks ago.

“Sam, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“What? Why?”

Dean turned his back to him, brushing a hand down his face.

“You have to let it go, man. You know there is nothing out there that could save me. We've been through this,” he said, his voice sounding just so damn tired.

“What? No, Dean. There-”

“Sam!” Dean brushed him off. “Cut it out already. There isn't anything. Not in Montana or Oklahoma or Oregon or anywhere else you've been in the last three months! I need you to stop running around, chasing after something that isn't there!”

“You don't know that, Dean,” Sam tried to argue.

“I think I do. And I think you do, too,” he replied, meeting Sam's eyes with that sad look he hated to see on his brother. That look he had seen so often over the years. That look that tears his heart apart.

“Dean, if I don't do this, you'll never get rid of the mark. You'll lose control again.” Sam tried to make him see sense.

“No, I won't,” Dean replied calmly, but Sam didn't understand where his brother was going with this. “Because you will kill me before that happens.”

“You're out of your mind, if you even think-” He replied angrily, not even wanting to spell it out. “Besides even if I did, you would just come back a demon again. You really want that?”

“Of course not, Sam!” Dean objected immediately.

“Then why are we even having this discussion?”

“When I said you should kill me, I meant waste me for good. Kill me as a human, kill me as a demon. You've got the demon knife, you can tie me up on the devil's trap and the moment I turn, you end this, Sammy! You make it stop there.” Sam could see his brother shake with emotions, but he could also see it in his eyes that he meant every word. He wanted him to kill him.

“No... No way!” Sam refused outright.

“This is the only option and you know it, Sam!”

“You're telling me to give up? On you?” Sam asked, tears pooling in his eyes, anger holding them barely at bay.

“I'm asking you to do the right thing here, Sammy,” Dean said almost pleadingly.

“No,” was Sam's final answer. “Be back in a day.”

Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he left for the Impala to head north on Interstate 80. This plan of his had to work. It just had to. Dean was giving up and the possibility scared him like no ghost, demon, or monster ever had. The plan had to work.


	4. Your soul which fades to black

Sam made good on his promise, returning back home within a day. He didn't stop for sleep and only took a break once to refill and grab a snack bar. Sleep was something he hadn't enjoyed in weeks, it was just a necessity which needed to be covered at least to the extent his body wouldn't give out. However, even he had to admit that he was pushing it. He had been barely able to stay focused on the drive back. After he'd get into the bunker and talk to Dean, he would crash into his bed and sleep a little bit, he decided.

“I'm back.” Sam walked down the stairs to the main area. “Dean, I'm back.” He tossed his bag and tiredly pulled off his jacket. “Dean?” Calling a couple more times, he checked the first rooms that he walked by for his brother. “Hey, where are you?” The silence was becoming uneasy and Sam went through the corridors, looking for Dean. When he wasn't in his room as well, panic started surging through his veins and a deep pit formed in his stomach. The scenarios cursing through his mind were getting scarier each minute he couldn't find him. At last he pulled out his cell phone and tried to call him.

“Damn it, Dean!” He angrily snapped his cell phone close when he didn't get an answer and ran for the car.

 

“Don't get me wrong, I like the occasional kinky play, but is the leash really necessary?” Crowley held up his cuffed hands, tugging on the chain Dean had locked on it in order to keep him by his side.

Dean didn't respond and just continued walking down the dark and dusty corridor.

“Not in the mood for chit chat, I get it. When the demon left you, so did your outgoing personality,” Crowley mused. “Even though you were an uncontrollable blood hungry psycho demon, at least you were fun. Now you're just an uncontrollable blood hungry psycho human who's crankier than my mother when she's PMSing.”

“Crowley, shut up,” Dean warned, stopping to hold the demon knife to his face.

“You gonna pick my tooth with that, Squirrel?” Crowley kept staring casually. “Maybe you could help me out with that nasty piece of lettuce that's been stuck there since lunch.”

The blow came fast, but nothing the king of hell hadn't anticipated.

“You gonna shut your cake hole now?” Dean barked, feeling the rage curse through him.

“Having the shakes?” Crowley hinted to Dean's trembling hands. The latter turned his back, trying to stay in control. “Did you try meditation? Heard it works wonders.”

“I swear to god, Crowley, if you don't stop running your tongue, I will cut it out!”

Crowley raised his arms in a placatory manner and mimed to zip his mouth shut, throwing the imaginary key to the side. Dean let out a breath of annoyed relief and started walking again, pulling the current ruler of hell behind him.

After a couple of steps in silence Crowley started humming 'Feel Like Makin' Love' and that's when Dean almost lost it and stabbed him. Instead he opted for another beat down.

“And here I thought you liked classic rock,” Crowley coughed out between his ragged breathing.

Dean grabbed him by his shoulders and practically pushed him through the door in front of them, having had enough of his attitude.

“How I'll enjoy carving your heart out once I have the blade back again,” Dean said, making his way to the tomb in the center of the crypt.

“If I remember correctly, Moose and I agreed it was for the best you don't have it, seeing how you go borderline insane every time you hold it in your hands,” Crowley replied, starting to get uneasy now with Dean so close to the blade.

“Well, tough,” Dean simply responded and retrieved the box from Crowley's remains.

“How about you step back from there and, maybe, just sleep over this one more night. Try out that meditation thing I told you about.” Crowley held his distance from Dean now, working his brain on how to get away from there.

Ignoring his companion, or rather his hostage, Dean opened the box and the relief that flooded him upon seeing the First Blade was overwhelming. It was drawing him in, every second without it almost physically hurt. For once Crowley was silent now, watching Dean picking up the blade. Mesmerized by it, he held it in front of his face, admiring it.

“Why so silent all of a sudden? Nothing to say anymore?” Dean finally managed to avert his attention from the blade. Now that he had it, he felt whole again and the familiar feeling of hunger for blood made him turn to Crowley now.

“Easy there, tiger. That thing's sharp,” Crowley said, eying the blade carefully.

“You bet it is,” he replied and walked to him so predator like, even the king of hell had cold sweat run down his back.

“Dean, stop!” Sam yelled from behind Crowley, gun aimed at his brother.

“Finally decided to join the party, Moose?” Crowley groaned relieved. “Almost had my heart and my tongue cut out by Psycho Squirrel here trying to stall for your slow ass.”

“How did he get to you?” Sam asked, but never failed to keep an eye on Dean, who was just a few feet away.

“He summoned me,” he replied and then added annoyed, “and chained me with your cute little devil's trap cuffs, before we could even talk about safe words.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He slowly walked further inside, closer to his brother.

“Let go of the blade,” Sam said.

“Can't do that, Sammy,” Dean replied clipped. Seeing his brother cleared somewhat the fog dazing his consciousness. However, the blade was still too powerful to even consider Sam's request. “How did you find me?”

“When you weren't in the bunker and I couldn't reach Crowley, I figured you were looking for the blade,” Sam explained.  
  
“And you know where my crypt is how?” Crowley asked, not sure he should like the fact Sam knew where his remains were even though he came to his rescue.

“Known for a while now. When you and my brother went on your little road trip, I thought knowing where your bones are would come in handy. I would have gotten Dean back one way or the other.”

“Not bad, Sammy,” Dean acknowledged with a half smile even.

“Dean, let go of the blade,” Sam repeated.

“Sure thing, but first I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch,” Dean replied.

“Now that's rude,” Crowley feigned indignation.

With one harsh tug, Dean pulled on Crowley's leash and aimed his blade right for his heart. Sam jumped in between and blocked off his attack, struggling with the arm holding the blade.

“Dean, snap out of it! Just drop the blade! Come on, Dean, you're stronger than it!” Sam tried to persuade his brother.

“Told you, Sam, you have to kill me. That's the only way,” Dean replied and pushed him on the floor. During the struggle Dean lost the grip on Crowley's chain and the latter had used the opportunity to fall back, escaping the room, if still bound by the devil's trap.

“No, I won't.” The blows kept coming now and Sam had trouble defending all of them. Vaguely he noticed that his brother never went at him directly with the blade and saw it as a good sign that his brother was still somewhat in control.

“Just do it, Sam!” Dean yelled. “I don't want to kill you, too!”

“Then don't!” Sam replied and stopped putting up a defense. “You don't want to hurt me, so don't. Just stop.”

“Sam!” Dean's voice was a low growl, warning him not to be so stupid in front of his mental brother right now. But Sam kept on not resisting and Dean was struggling not to bash his little brother's head in.

“You can stop, Dean. I know you can,” Sam coughed, feeling dizzy from all the punches he was receiving.

“Damn it, Sammy, why couldn't you have just killed me when I asked you to?! I can't live like this anymore... The blood lust just won't go away, it's taking over all my senses, you have no idea,” Dean explained, trembling hands holding Sam by his collar. “You know why I cuff myself to the bed at night? Because I'm afraid I'll wake up some day in the near future, lying in your pool of blood. This mark doesn't care if it's my brother as long as it has some warm flesh it can cut into. So how long are you letting me live like this, because honest to god I don't know how much longer I can endure it. If I could do it myself, I would have put a bullet through my skull long time ago!”

“You've held on this long, because it's still you. You haven't killed me, because you are stronger than the mark. Can't you see it? Even now you can't do it, Dean. As long as you still hesitate, you are still you and you can still fight it.” Dean looked like it wasn't possible, the hurdle to great this time around.

“Yeah? For how long, Sammy?” Dean asked defeated.

“Just a little bit longer. It's hard, I know, but can you do it for me? Can you live on for me?” Sam lost the fight with his tears. His brother was in pain and the only way to relieve him of it, is to either fulfill his wish and kill him or bind him to himself. And since Sam can't live without him, he was willing to force him into a life Dean would probably never want for himself.

Dean was still sitting on top of Sam, but his grip loosened and he let go eventually.

“Okay,” he said exhausted and climbed off him. It took him a while to fully calm down, especially since the blade was still lying next to him, but there was something that forced him to collect himself. “Sammy? Why are you crying?”

Sam was hiding his face behind his hands, but his stifled sobs wreaking through his body didn't fool Dean.

“Remember, you said that there's nothing you ever put in front of me?” He asked, not able to prevent his voice from trembling. “I know that you do, but it's always a choice you can make. Stay with me or leave me behind. If I were to take that choice away from you, would you be able to live with that?”

“Not even sure I understand the question.” Dean still breathed a little heavily.

“Forget it,” Sam said and turned to his side, away from Dean.

“There's no choice to make or take a way from, Sammy. I know I've said some crap things in the past, but I could never leave you, so staying with my pain-in-the-ass little brother it is. The answer good enough?”

“You're breaking my heart, boys,” Crowley interrupted, standing in the doorway. “Would someone please uncuff me now?”

Sam nodded absently and pushed himself up from the ground. He glanced one last time to his brother and the blade lying next to him, before he went to uncuff Crowley with the key Dean had handed him.

“The blade comes with me,” Crowley said sternly. “Keep your brother in check.”

It was hard for Dean to just let Crowley take the blade away, especially since he knew it would be a lot more difficult to find it the next time, but he forced himself to pull away from it, hoping his brother would have found away to remove the mark by then. Somehow it was surprising he could draw strength from that fickle string of hope only his brother really believed in. Dean had long given up the idea of getting out of this and still he built on his brother's determination as if it were his own.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I actually have hell to run,” Crowley said and disappeared together with the blade.

“Can you drive?” Sam asked. There was no way he could do anything else than collapse on the passenger seat at this point.

Dean nodded, catching the keys Sam tossed him. “You look like crap.”

“I was just used as a punching bag, leave me alone,” Sam grumbled and let himself fall onto the car seat.

“Who told you to? You just lied there and didn't fight back. That's the dumbest thing you ever did,” Dean said gruff, but eyed his brother's injuries nonetheless. “Get some sleep. It's a little while until we get to Kansas.”

“No, just head straight to Montana,” Sam replied in barely a whisper, too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer.

“You found something?” Dean asked surprised.

“I found Cain.” Sam forced his eye lids back and met Dean's incredulous glare.

“He, he... er...” Dean didn't know how to ask, he didn't want to feel hope and then have it crushed again.

“He can remove it,” Sam told him, smiling when he saw the sudden relief flood over his brother, even if he couldn't quite believe it yet. “We're getting the mark off, Dean.”

Dean almost let out a strangled laugh, he couldn't believe it. He started the engine, hitting the accelerator full on and didn't quite know which was going faster, the car or his heart.


	5. Saving a soul

Sam managed to get some shut eye for three hours, before they passed the border and his brother reluctantly woke him to ask where he should drive next.

“Cluster National Forest,” Sam said. “We should stop somewhere first though to get some water and food. We have to hike quite a bit until we reach his cabin.”

“Of course he's in the middle of nowhere,” Dean grunted.

“Likes to keep away,” Sam just replied.

“Yeah, sure thing. So? How did you find him?” Dean asked.

“A psychic in Billings could feel something ominous nearby. Thought I check it out.” Sam shrugged.

“That's it? You didn't even know it could be him and you just hiked miles into the woods for only that?” Dean asked incredulously.

Sam shrugged again, he had followed rumors with less information. “He said it wasn't a spirit or a monster and far too dark for a regular demon.”  
  
“It could have been a pagan god or something worse,” Dean pointed out angrily. “You don't face something like that without backup, Sam.”

“Come on, Dean. I can handle myself.”

“You're just willing to make everything work your way, don't you?” Dean shook his head. His brother was something. As long as he wanted something he'd get it. Just like when he was a kid. He wanted the last cereal, he got it. He wanted Dean to fight the mark, he succeeded. He wanted to find the Father of Murder, he did. How can he still be surprised? What Sam wanted, he got. “If this thing goes the way we planned-”

“It will, Dean. He told me he would remove the mark,” Sam interrupted him.

“I'm just saying, this thing is finally off my arm, we're gonna take a break. Especially you, Sam. You need to fatten up again, you look worse than the things we hunt.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam mumbled.

“You... I... Man, what I mean is, you've really put yourself out there and I appreciate all you've done. So once this is all over, you can slow down. I'll step in again. And... er... thanks I guess, for not giving up.”

“You don't have to thank me, Dean, you're my brother,” Sam said dismissively. “How many times did you haul out my ass when I needed it?”

“Still, I owe you,” Dean simply said and turned the music louder.

“No.” Looking out the window, Sam objected so softly Dean couldn't hear. “After this is all done, you'll owe me nothing.”

 

 

After scouring the woods for three hours, they finally reached the cabin. It was deep into the night by then and if it hadn't been for Sam and the compass they would have been lost long time ago. They drew closer to the abandoned looking cottage and Dean wondered if they would truly find Cain there. Sam knocked on the door, his back straight as an arrow. He could see his little brother was nervous, perhaps he was even intimidated by Cain and who could blame him? Cain had this presence to him, it was hard not to.

A minute passed until they heard foot steps behind the door and a few seconds later the door opened to reveal a gruff looking old man.

“You didn't lose time, did you?” Cain remarked and stepped aside to let them in. “Dean.” He looked him up and down. “Not doing so well, I heard.”

“Yeah... Can't say I like this damn thing very much,” Dean replied, looking at his mark.

Cain ignited an oil lamp and led them further into the room.

“I had hoped I could turn one day to you and you would kill me,” Cain said disappointed.

“If that's what you want, we'll find another way,” Sam replied.

“So you said.”

Dean looked between Cain and his brother and wondered what they had been talking about when Sam had been here before.

“I will hold you to it,” Cain said. “I have a feeling if somebody can find a way, it's you Winchesters.”

“It's a gift and a curse at the same time,” Dean muttered.

“Can we start?” Sam asked and even though he looked calm, Dean could see he was on edge. He just didn't know why. Was he afraid it wouldn't work?

Cain scrutinized him closely, they both were staring at each other and Dean could swear they were having a silent conversation.

“Do it,” Sam urged him. The man watched him and then turned to Dean, apparently pondering over something.

“This is the last time I will help you,” he finally said and turned back to Sam. “I don't want to see you before me again until you've found a way to kill me. Be well advised, Sam.”

Sam nodded, fully understanding. Cain wouldn't, couldn't even reverse what he was about to do. And Sam was asked one last time if he really wanted to make the decision for his brother.

Cain placed the lamp on the table next to them and held his hand out, waiting for Dean to do the same. Dean rolled up his sleeve where the angry looking mark was glimmering and grabbed Cain's arm like the time he first received the mark from him. His veins on his lower arm were protruding red and it felt like hot iron was cursing through them. He grunted heavily, trying to hold the pain at bay. Faintly he noticed Cain mumbling something he couldn't understand and after another minute of agonizing pain, he saw him look up to Sam, nodding once. He didn't see his brother stepping closer, but rather felt his presence next to him. And then suddenly, Cain let go of his arm and put his hand on his chest, mumbling something again. There was just one word he could catch before his eyes closed and his consciousness left him.

 

 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam was slapping his brother mildly until he finally opened his eyes.

“Sam?” Dean asked bewildered. The light coming from the window was too bright and it added to his pounding headache.

“How are you feeling?” It took him awhile to truly think about it. With the help of his brother he slowly sat up and looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Truth? Feel like I've been steam rolled,” he replied gruffly and then finally it hit him. His head snapped so quickly to look at his arm, it made him dizzy, but it wasn't there. The mark was really gone.

“It's gone,” he almost stuttered. The ache was gone as well and he felt so light all of a sudden, like a truck had been lifted from him that had been crushing his body and mind for months now.

Sam smiled, just as relieved as Dean was.

“Where is he?” Dean looked around the small cabin for Cain.

“He's gone. Left soon after he removed the mark,” Sam explained and helped his brother to his feet.

“I don't believe it,” Dean muttered, trying to come to terms with the situation. Normally as soon as they managed to evade one catastrophe another was right there to take over. But the moment was peaceful. He felt fine, the mark was gone, and his brother was with him. Everyone was alive and no imminent threat was to be seen.

“Believe it,” Sam said and patted his brother on the shoulder. “It's really gone.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Seems so.”

“Let's go home.” Sam looked at his brother, a small smile painting his face.

“I want to stop for some burgers with extra onions, some booze, and most importantly: I want some pie,” Dean said, walking out the cabin, stretching his limps along the way.

“I think that can be arranged,” Sam laughed and they both began the trip back to the Impala.

 

 

“Man, I feel like I've been reborn,” Dean said with that goofy smile he couldn't shake since it finally sank in that the mark was really gone.

“Glad to hear that,” Sam replied, smiling. He opened the door to the bunker and they both headed inside. Dean had already eaten his burger, two of them actually, plus had stuffed himself with three fourth of the pie on the way home.

“I think the first thing I wanna do is, find myself some filthy busty Asian porn site,” Dean announced his plans with a full on mischievous grin.

“Dude!” Sam complained, groaning. He really didn't want to know what his brother was up to.

“A man has got to celebrate his new life, or his old new life...” Dean was trying to make sense of his own sentence, not noticing Sam scrutinizing him closely.

“You're sure you feel fine?”

“I told you, never felt better,” Dean answered.

“There's nothing weird? No strange feeling?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“What? No. Why are you asking?” Dean regarded him bewildered.

“No, it's nothing. Just wanted to make sure everything was normal,” Sam replied, trying to dismiss the topic, but Dean kept staring at him, wondering now what his brother was thinking. “It's just I didn't fully know if we could trust Cain, that's all,” Sam added. However, his brother was still not fully convinced. “You know how it is with us, normally we don't get the good without a string attached. S'all.” He said, knowing his brother would believe this kind of reasoning. What Dean didn't know, however, was that there was indeed a string attached. Fortunately for Sam it was an invisible one so far.

“Yeah, sounds too good to be true,” Dean wondered.

“It's probably fine, Dean,” Sam tried to reassure his brother.

“I feel fine,” he pointed out. “So let me enjoy this moment, before it turns.” He wiggled his brows expectantly.

“Yeah, I'll leave you to it,” Sam said, huffing amused. He turned around to head to his room, when he started to feel light-headed.

“Sam!” Dean called out from behind and Sam turned around surprised by his brother's urgent tone.

“What?” He asked confused.

Dean hurried to him, looking somewhat just as confused as his brother.

“I- I don't know, I just had this feeling-” That's when Sam collapsed all of a sudden without any warning. Dean caught him before he hit the floor and could hurt himself. He frantically called out his name repeatedly.

“Hey, come on, Sammy!”

Dean shook him a couple of times until he finally knew what was going on.

“Son of a bitch! Are you sleeping?”

A soft moan escaped his brother's lips and he slightly turned his head around on Dean's lap.

“If you think I'm carrying you to your room...” He said annoyed. “I mean it, Sam, wake up. I'll leave you on the floor.” His voice was gruff, but his hands were soothingly rubbing Sam's arm. He sighed defeated and dragged him to his room as softly as he could.

It's long overdue, Dean concluded and after some thinking he assumed his brother hadn't slept for more than three hours straight the few times he did get to sleep. Especially these last few days, Sam had been running around, looking for Cain, looking for him, being beaten, and still walking him through the woods back and forth. Even in his best condition this would have been a strain, but he did all this already working on fumes.

He tugged him into his bed and sat there beside him, thanking him once silently. There was this familiar feeling washing through him, a little bit more intense than usual. This feeling of relief and bliss, knowing his little brother was safe. He rubbed over his own chest, soothing his inner turmoil and the slight strange itch coming from where Cain had touched him.


	6. Tingling soul

There were these weird sounds he couldn't quite differentiate. They sounded far away, but were a constant nagging and he just wanted it to stop. Was someone talking to him? It didn't feel like it... Too far away. But this continuous strange squelching sound was right next to him, driving him crazy. To top it off the surface he was lying on kept vibrating every once in a while, each time he could hear a sort of bellowing accompanying it. Sam didn't know what it was, but it bothered him. He just wanted to be left alone. Go back to sleep. Back to sleep? It was then Sam's mind slowly drifted to the surface of consciousness, opening his eyes warily.

For the first time he could match the sounds he had been hearing to what was actually going on. The TV was on, some men invested in a heated argument – apparently a movie. The nagging sound was coming from next to him, as well as the bellowing and the tremors he had felt. His brother was lying beside him, munching shamelessly on a sandwich, laughing every few seconds out loud, causing the mattress underneath him to shake.

Sam groaned annoyed and turned to his brother.

“Sleeping beauty finally awake?” Dean asked casually, turning the TV's volume down a bit.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Sam moaned sleepily and still somewhat annoyed that his brother had woken him up.

“Watching a movie,” Dean said simply and took another bite from his sandwich.

“I can see that... Why in my bed?” Sam hid behind his arm in order to block out the bright lights coming from the television.

“Wanted to keep an eye on you. Do you know how long you've been asleep? I was seriously thinking of pouring a bucket of ice water on you just to be sure you're not in a coma,” Dean explained, still munching away.

“How long was I out?” Sam tried to remember how he got into his bed, but failed miserably and decided to let his brother answer all his questions until the sleepy fog finally cleared from his mind.

“21 hours.”

“What?!” Sam shot up, looking at him incredulously.

“You needed sleep. That body of yours was stretched way beyond your limit. You passed out on me. Do you remember that?”

It slowly came back to him. They had just come from Cain, had gotten some take out, and then Dean was about to watch... Now he remembered.

“Yeah, I think so.” Sam nodded groggily and leaned against the headboard. God, felt he sore.

“Here, drink this.” Dean handed him a bottle of water and some aspirin. “After that, you are getting some food in your system.” He turned around once again to hand him another sandwich he had prepared especially for Sam.

“Er- thanks, but...”

“But what?”

“First things first. I need to go to the bathroom!” Sam scrambled up out of the bed in a hurry. His bladder making notice of itself. He could faintly hear his brother laughing from behind, but he was too preoccupied with the one thought to reach the toilet in time.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked once Sam was back in the room.

“A lil' bit tired and sore,” Sam said, rubbing his bruised chin. “How about you? Everything still okay?” He looked concerned.

“Everything peachy,” Dean reassured him. “Come on, eat.”

He climbed back into bed and took everything Dean had offered him.

“I called Cas and Crowley, told them we got rid of the mark. Crowley said he'd only believe it once he saw it with his own eyes.” Dean laughed.

“Can you blame him? You lied and tried to kill him,” Sam mused.

“That's why he wanted to hear it from you. Didn't help that you were knocked out cold and I couldn't get you on the phone. He thought I had finally snapped and killed you,” he said it in a light tone, but the humor was a little bit lost, Sam could tell.

“I'll call him later,” Sam assured him.

They kept watching the movie, but soon after Sam had eaten, he started nodding off again. He turned to his side facing Dean and wasn't even aware his brother had placed a soothing hand on his arm, drawing circles, lulling him steadily to sleep.

 

 

The next two days were, in one word, uneventful. Sam kept attention to everything Dean did or what he himself felt and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If he didn't know better, he'd say the bond didn't work. However, Dean was alive and what better proof was there?

Sure, Dean was playing mother hen, always looking after Sam, complaining he had lost too much weight, but he had announced he would do that before the mark's removal. And, frankly, that was typical Dean behavior. So nothing unusual there.

One thing, however, Sam did notice was of concern. His brother didn't seem to sleep very well. Nightmares haunted him and it did influence his psyche. At first he had been euphoric having the mark gone, but the memories of what he had done while he still had it plagued him and soon his happiness seemed outlived. Although he did try to hide it from Sam as best as he could.

However, it was still not a direct result of the bond. Maybe they just weren't that compatible. The books suggested that the greater the compatibility, the greater the bond's effect. Which could mean that they're just not that strongly connected. But somehow Sam couldn't quite believe that.

He sighed out loud, sauntering through the main area.

“I'm going to do some shopping. We're out of food. Anything you need?” He asked Dean.

“You know these tiny muffin like pastries with the double chocolate cream filling? Get me those,” Dean said, his eyes sparkling at the thought.

“Sure.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I'll probably stock up on the Marine kit as well...” He added sheepishly.

“As long as you bring real food, too,” Dean warned, not hiding his distaste to Sam's previous behavior.

“Trust me, I have no intention of staying on that diet. Am not even sure how I was able to eat that daily in the first place,” Sam replied, grimacing at the memory.

“Good,” Dean said strongly.

Sam made his way to the Impala and headed to the nearest grocery store. He had been spending most of his time in the library, yes, but the occasional hints and rumors he had followed had sent him on the road. However, those were mostly solo trips. Driving without his brother was something he wasn't used to and even though he welcomed a short break from hunting, he had to admit that he also longed to sit shotgun with his brother driving again. Listening to the same albums over and over, watching his brother drum to the beat and occasionally even sing along, those were all things he considered annoying, but made the memories bittersweet at the end of the day. He liked to drive the Impala, but all in all he preferred sitting in the passenger seat next to Dean.

Following a spontaneous impulse, he abandoned his plans to buy groceries for now and drove to the next gas station to give the Impala a nice long scrub. She had earned it, seeing as she had been completely neglected over the past months. And furthermore, Sam was hoping it would cheer Dean a little bit up, if he were to take his shiny baby for a spin later on.

Sam took his time washing and waxing the Impala, but was more than satisfied once he was done and he was certain his brother would be, too; he did follow all of Dean's rules per his instructions on how to clean her properly after all. So after one and a half hours he finally returned to his original task and drove to the next supermarket.

He found the pastries his brother wanted so badly and even got two packs for him. Adding some more junk food Dean loved so much, he soon found his basket full to the brim, earning a skeptical look from the cashier.

“You know you're just asking for diabetes?” The old man behind the counter asked.

“It's not for me,” he just replied. “My brother can't get enough.”

“Then you're giving your brother diabetes. You're at as much fault as your brother, if you encourage it by buying to his gluttony,” the cashier said judgmentally and Sam wondered if that was really how he wanted to make business. Asking the customers to buy less wasn't really going by the playbook.

“He kinda deserves it. Had a rough few months behind him,” Sam mumbled, not entirely sure why he was justifying himself.

“And you think Candy Krix makes it all sunshine and rainbows?” The man replied sarcastically.

“Just... wrap it, alright?” Sam sighed and earned another quirked eyebrow, but no further comment, which he was thankful for.

After the initial irritation subsided though, he kind of had to admit the old man was right. There was no universal treatment for Dean to feel better. His brother was haunted with memories of what he had done, of his time with the mark and the brief time as a demon. And no amount of apple pie or mini muffins or even a super clean Impala would make it go away. Sam was just concerned and all those sweets and junk food he had seen in the store just reminded him of Dean and the possibility to see a short-run smile on his brother's face, if he were to bring them home to him. Obviously it was pointless, but that's all he could think about. Dean was all he could think about. There was this tingling in his chest he didn't even consciously realize was there and he absentmindedly scratched over it. And suddenly, he felt so lonely... He kind of felt homesick, even though he had been only gone for a little bit over two hours now. But truth was he missed his brother. All he wanted was to go back to the bunker, go back to where his brother was. Hadn't he been already sitting in the car, the realization would have knocked him off his feet.

“Okay, I guess this is not normal,” he muttered to himself, noticing the first change since their souls had bonded.  
  
He recognized this feeling from when he was still in Stanford. Those times were Sam wanted to return home to Jess, rather than hang out at the bar with his friends. Drinking a couple of beers with your classmates was great, but the prospect of going back home to spend the time with the person you loved most was often greater.

“Oh my god, I am feeling homesick for my brother,” he admitted slowly, wide-eyed. “That's not super creepy at all.”

With the familiar purr the Impala came to life, when Sam turned on the ignition and despite his rationality, his logic reasoning, which he had depended on most of his life, he turned left on the next intersection, driving straight back home instead of getting the rest of the things he had wanted to buy.

 

 

“You're back?” Dean uselessly asked, seeing his brother walk back inside.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed out, trying to fight the sudden relief of being back home with his brother.

“You got it?”

“Got what?” He asked confused. His mind was a mess. During the drive back he was analyzing his own feelings, the authenticity and also the intensity and wondered when his feelings had started to change and how he could fight something that felt so natural, he wouldn't even necessarily realize was out of the ordinary.

“The cream muffins,” Dean elaborated expectantly.

“Er, yeah, sure, I got them,” Sam replied and handed him the bags.

“Wow, Sam, did you rob a candy factory? This is awesome!” Dean appreciated each and every thing that was in some way or the other considered unhealthy and patted his brother on the shoulder in approval. “Man, this feels like Halloween, you know, minus the nasty monsters we have to deal with to get to those.”

“Just don't eat them all at once, please?” Sam had to bring his puppy eyes out, feeling happy his brother was enjoying the tribute, but also feeling guilty, remembering the cashier's remarks.

“I'll see what I can do, Sammy,” Dean replied, still eying the bag's contents hungrily. “Where're the Marine kits?”

Sam squirmed sheepishly from one foot to the other, not knowing how to explain himself.

“Didn't get them,” he eventually answered.

“Why not?” Dean asked curiously.

“Somehow I didn't feel like it.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“You're sick?” Dean was now scrutinizing him closely.

“No, no,” Sam reassured him quickly. “Just... It just seemed so far away and I rather wanted to get back home and... continue reading my book, you know.”

“I don't actually,” Dean said. He was sure he would never understand why his brother would want to read a book instead of doing, well, anything else, really. “Well, doesn't matter. We never needed it so far, we'll most likely not need it for the next week as well.”

Sam nodded in agreement, relieved he didn't have to further elaborate on his sudden change of feelings. However, he wondered, if his brother had been affected the same way he had.

“Everything okay while I was gone?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Sure, watched some good old Police Academy,” Dean said grinning, but the dark circles under his eyes indicated his brother had kept himself awake, not wanting to fall asleep, not wanting to relive his memories in his sleep.

“That's it?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“That's it,” Dean deadpanned. “Well, Cas called. He said, he'd come by sometime next week. See how things are.”

“Great.” He nodded his head repeatedly. “Anything else?”

“No. Sam, why are you asking?” Dean hefted his attention to Sam now.

“Nothing, just wanted an update, s'all,” Sam said quickly.

“Right,” Dean stretched the syllable, knowing something was off. Before he pressed his little brother further on the topic, however, he thought he realized what was going on. “You still think I'll be coming down with some backlash because of the mark? I'm fine. Nothing's different. Seriously, stop wrecking your head over this.”

“Alright,” Sam agreed slowly. “But if there's anything, I mean anything, the slightest change, tell me, alright? Even if it sounds stupid.”

“Sure, doctor,” he said. “Come to mention though, there is actually something that's been bothering me. I have this itch on my dick, it's been driving me crazy. You wanna have a look?” Dean looked at him expectantly.

Sam gave him his typical bitchface and walked away.

“No, seriously, Sammy. I don't think it's been there before Cain removed the mark!” He yelled after him.

“Go to hell,” Sam muttered.

“Been there, done that!” Dean shouted back.

 

 

The following night, Sam woke with a qualmish feeling. Like he had had a bad dream, but couldn't remember it upon waking. The digital clock next to his bed read 03:38. With a sigh he sat up for a moment, when he heard a sound coming from the other room suddenly. The door to his room was ajar, he must have forgotten to close it, before he had fallen asleep, enabling him to decipher the noises coming from down the corridor. It sounded like his brother, whimpering in his sleep. Probably another nightmare and if the nights before had been any indication, he would wake up any minute now and get up to distract himself, preferably through alcohol induced oblivion. He sighed. What was he supposed to do? It wasn't something that would get better by talking it over with his little brother. There was nothing to be done. No way Sam could reverse it. Dean had blood on his hands and he couldn't euphemize it as red paint. He just hoped time would soothe his conscience. But maybe he didn't need to find a solution, maybe he just had to be there for his brother and help him through it.

The whimpers ceased and Sam could hear the bed creaking, followed by footsteps echoing on the other side of the room. Quickly Sam turned on his television, so that by the time Dean would walk by his room he would see through the open door Sam was still awake.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him sleepily. “Still up?”

“Yeah. What about you? Couldn't sleep?”

“Not really,” Dean admitted, scratching his head. “What are you watching?”

“A documentary about black holes,” Sam replied and could see Dean cringing his nose the second he had said it.

“You're such a geek,” he groaned. “Seriously, Sam. It's the middle of the night with lots of porn all over the programs and you watch a documentary?”

Sam shrugged. “Wanna join me?”

“I must be going out of my mind...” Dean said, when he decided to take him up on his offer.

Reluctantly he settled in on Sam's bed next to him.

“Got some popcorn at least?”

“Just shut up.” Sam hit him in the side with his elbow.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They watched in quiet for another five minutes, before Sam decided to break the silence.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked, referring to the nightmares.

“Nope.”

“Thought so,” Sam conceded. “For what it's worth, I know you are having a hard time dealing with the guilt and more so forgiving yourself, but I am happy that I have my brother back. It's not helping much, I guess, but I am still here.” He cleared his throat once. “As I said, for what it's worth.”

And even though Dean didn't admit it to Sam at that moment, it actually was worth a lot. The only thing that could make this situation worse, actually unbearable, would be, if it were without Sam. God, he wouldn't have come through half the shit they had had to live through, if it weren't for Sam. So, yes, these simple words were actually worth a lot to Dean right now. He wasn't alone in this and solely for that fact, he realized he could overcome this, too. There was this strange tingling feeling in his chest again and never would he admit it to anyone, especially Sam, but he knew exactly what it was. His ever growing love for Sam.


	7. Sleepless nights, dream-bound souls

When Sam woke the next morning, it wasn't because he was naturally coming out of a blissful sleep, quite the opposite in fact. He had a hard time breathing effortlessly, as if something was putting pressure on his torso. That something turned out to be a someone, as Sam realized quickly upon forcing to push his eyelids back and taking in the scene in front of him. Dean was sprawled slightly over him, head resting on his chest, arm draped loosely over his stomach. It took Sam a couple of seconds to recall why his brother was yet again in his bed. They had watched some science channel the night before and Dean had fallen asleep half way through the documentary. Not having wanted to rob him of the few rare cases where his brother could sleep peacefully, he let him be and just turned off the TV to get back to sleep himself. His body felt a little bit sore and he had to guess they had been stuck in this position a while now. The need to stretch his limps called for attention, but Sam grounded himself upon seeing his brother's tranquil expression. For once the deep lines on his forehead, around his eyes and mouth were smooth; his whole body was free of the usual tension, which so naturally had fused into him over the span of the last ten years, or perhaps even longer than that. Carefree Dean has become an act Sam could easily see through and in his opinion not worth putting up on Dean's side. However, dealing with his inner demons or sharing them with somebody else were still two very different things. And they had both been through similar if not exactly the same repeated situations were none of them felt the courage and inner power to take some kind of reprieve the other would have surely provided. That was just not them. They were Winchesters, which was a born with prerogative to go at things the most difficult way there was. So he understood, didn't mean he encouraged it.

Dean stirred for a brief moment in his sleep, but remained in it regardless. Sam had to admit he liked waking up... not alone. Waking up to a warm body, to contact... But mainly he liked waking up next to his brother. To his scent, to his steady breathing, to the little grunts here and there. Knowing first thing in the morning that his brother was still there. That they survived yet another day together. It had an incredibly calming effect on Sam. He gently caressed Dean's back, so softly it was barely a touch. And then he allowed himself, for the first time in a long while, to feel an emotion he had long since buried deep within himself. A forbidden feeling, not to be ever mentioned.

Yes, he liked to wake up next to his brother and at the same time he hated it.

With conflicted thoughts and feelings he slowly drifted back to sleep under the uncomfortable, yet comfortable, weight of his brother.

Another two hours passed with both of them asleep, until Sam woke up to his phone buzzing. He quickly answered it, before it could disturb his brother's peaceful sleep.

“Yes?” He whispered very softly.

“So you are not dead after all, Moose,” Crowley bid his greetings.

He had completely forgotten to call Crowley and confirm that they were both alive and mark free.

“Yeah, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you.”

“You should have at least updated your Facebook status to 'alive'. I've been checking every hour. Gorgeous profile picture, by the way.”

“I'm not on Facebook, Crowley.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Wait, are you?”

“Of course, all the kids are on Facebook nowadays. Gotta stay young, Moose.”

“Who would even befriend you? No wait, just forget it. I actually don't want to know.”

“Your flippy Wings for one,” Crowley answered nonetheless.

“Cas? Cas is on Facebook? And is friends with you?” That forced the air out of his lungs.

“Yap,” Crowley confirmed nonchalantly. “And I may or may not have added my mother under the category horrible, horrible family members. Speaking of which, she might have recently gone with the wind.”

“Rowena escaped?” Sam almost jumped up upon Crowley's revelation.

Dean stirred for a moment, but after he turned his head to the other side, to Sam, he fell silent again. He was surprisingly still draped around Sam's torso which could only mean he had been sleeping very deeply for hours now. A good sign.

“It's not like I had her on a leash.” Crowley replied briskly.  
  
“Why not?” Sam shot back.

“She might be a fire-spitting, crazy, backstabbing mother-slash-whore, but she is still my mother!”

“Fine, so what now?”

“I'm just calling to inform you that she is loose. The coven will probably take care of her, but she has shown great skill in avoiding them, so be warned. Should you find her, before the coven or I do, feel free to kill her.”

“Sounds like you two patched things up.” Sam couldn't help the sarcasm.

“She killed my most trusted and she stole from me. Amongst the apprehended goods also the blade, by the way.”

“Well, it's useless in her hands. Dean can't use it anymore either.”

“We have the gods to thank for that,” Crowley commented. “That is all. May you and your brother stay far away from me.”

With that the line went dead.

Not a week had past and another problem had arisen for Sam and Dean. At least it wasn't an immediate threat. They didn't even know where she was or what she was planning. And considering she had more than one enemy chasing after her, she wouldn't surface that quickly for now. That left them with at least a few more days until they actually had to act on this piece of news.

Throughout the whole phone call Dean hadn't woken up. Even though Sam had kept his voice down, it was still a surprise Dean remained asleep. He was deliberating whether or not to get up. There was no way he could fall back asleep, but getting up would mean waking his brother.

His thoughts circled around that question for a while until Sam finally noticed that his brother was acting on an old habit of his.

“What-”

And now he really just wanted to push him out of the bed.

His brother was drooling on him.

Biting the curses back, lips pursed, nose cringed, eyes narrowed – bitchface on. Now he kind of felt stupid for showing even the least bit of concern, for ever having thought it was nice to wake up next to him, seeing how Dean had managed to create a pool of spit on his shirt. Leave it to his brother to even be able to mock him while he's sleeping.

He let out a deep calming breath, trying to get rid of the irritation at the same time. He had to repeat it twice for it to actually work, but eventually it did manage to wash away his annoyance. If he was going to let his brother continue (drooling) sleeping on him, he had to get himself distracted.

Reaching for the drawer next to his bed, he pulled out a long since neglected book he had been reading, before he changed his overall literature to everything regarding the Mark of Cain, and eventually soul bonding. _John Adams_ was an interesting read and Sam had to admit that not a small part of it originated from the romantic depiction of the president and his wife's relationship. Not that he would confess that in front of Dean. With nothing to do and time to kill, he made to read the second half of the book.

 

 

Dean woke up an hour later, disoriented at first and confused that he apparently woke up from a deep slumber. Normally he didn't sleep so relaxed that even his subconscious didn't torment him with the memories of his late victims. So mostly the disorientation arouse from the fact that his headspace had been for once blissfully empty upon waking. He turned around to see his brother reading a book and was soon greeted a good morning by him.

“Morning,” Dean grumbled back. He rather quickly put the pieces together as to why he was waking up with his little brother lying next to him despite his still half asleep brain. “So I fell asleep.” It sounded astonished.

“You did,” Sam concurred.

“It's past ten?” He asked shocked, seeing the digital clock on Sam's desk. He hadn't been able to sleep straight for more than two or three hours without waking up at some point. Now he had managed six.

“It is,” Sam confirmed. He was just as happy about the realization as his brother was.

“Huh,” Dean deadpanned.

“You wanna eat breakfast?” Sam stored the book away.

That's when Dean noticed the ugly stain on Sam's gray t-shirt.

“You been drooling on yourself?” He looked half appalled half amused at his little brother. “Come on, you're too old for that.”

Sam returned his gaze incredulously. First open mouthed, than gaping like a fish, not knowing how to rebuke and then settled for his initial annoyed bitchface he drew the first time he saw his brother drooling on him.

“Be a little considerate here. Yours truly was sleeping next to you,” Dean shook his head in exasperation. “What I have to deal with everyday...”

“What you have-” Sam finally found his voice again. “That's enough.” He pulled the shirt off with one swift movement over his head and tossed it angrily at Dean's face.

“Disgusting much?!” Dean complained annoyed.

“That's what I thought!” Sam bellowed back and left to take a shower.

Despite Sam's annoyance he did make breakfast for them, deciding to take the high road here. They talked about everything and nothing at all. Nothing of substance, really. Sam informed him of Crowley's mother and even mentioned a possible hunt, but Dean dismissed it quickly, saying they needed a little bit more time off, before they returned to all the crazy that was out there.

The day passed by in a blur of having done nothing mentionable and Sam wondered how long this will continue, because neither him or Dean were able to just sit down and do nothing. Sooner or later they would have to get back on the road again. Especially now that Rowena was out there again.

He turned in later than usual, however, drifted off rather quickly once he was lying on his bed. Again he woke up with that uneasy feeling. Normally such a feeling made him jump up straight, scan his surroundings for any kind of danger and have a hand on either his gun or a knife just in case. But there was nothing threatening here in the bunker and Sam couldn't really equate that uneasiness that woke him with external threats. No, it was something else. Like the nights before it felt like he had a nightmare, only that he was sure he hadn't had one at the same time. Normally he can recall his dreams rather well. Sam thinks it's something that he has become more attuned to since his visions, even though he didn't have them anymore and that already for a long time now.

The creaking noise of Dean's bed made him surface from his inner thoughts and he realized his brother had woken up as well. Again. So last night's long rest had just been a fluke. He sighed sadly. But then again, he had only managed to sleep so well after they had watch TV together. Sam decided to try that same approach again. He quickly opened the door, turned on the television, and hopped back into bed.

“You're up again?” Dean asked, after he saw the light from Sam's slightly open door and came in to check on him. He could have sworn Sam's door had been closed when he went to bed earlier.

“Yeah, wanted to see the continuation from yesterday's documentary,” Sam explained casually.

“They made a second part of this boring crap?” Dean asked incredulously.

“A five part series actually.”

Dean almost keeled over hearing this. The first part had been so incredibly boring already, who on earth would make five installments about this? What was there even to say to be able to fill that amount of time? He hadn't understood jackshit the night before. Hadn't it been for Sam, explaining the different parts, he would have gotten nothing out of it. Although he had to admit the way his brother had illustrated the scientific yada yada had been close to interesting. He especially liked the time travel theory Sam had patiently outlined for him. Dean never ceased to acknowledge Sam's intelligence, but at times like these he wondered if Sam wasn't made to live another life after all. If not lawyer, maybe teacher. He would have been good at it. But all in all he was also a damn good hunter. Sad part was, however, he didn't become this good, because he wanted to. He had been forced to become this good, it was a question of survival. Dean took solace in the fact that Sam was at least okay with it now and the many lives they had saved spoke for themselves. Of course so did the lives they put in jeopardy.

“Up for another adventure into the outer space?” Sam grinned, inviting his brother to join him again.

“Man, if this was at least Star Wars,” Dean groaned, but was already on his way to Sam's bed. “Scoot over, princess. And if you dare drool on me, I'm gonna smack you out of the bed.”

Sam had to correct him soon about this, he didn't know how many more jabs he was willing to take.

 

 

They managed without either one of them drooling and to Sam's satisfaction Dean had had even a better night's rest than the one from before. Both of them ignored the circumstance that there had been sharing a bed to accomplish that though. They had always been rather sensitive about the question of two queens or one king. Dean was too stoic to admit how relieving it felt after finally having had a good night's rest, about shaking off the memories for just a few peaceful hours and the reason for all of it was just Sam's presence. And Sam was too glad there was finally a way to help his brother overcome his nightmares, not to mention that he himself enjoyed the sleeping arrangements a little too much. The guilt and shame alone were enough to keep his mouth shut about this and calling it out would make Dean withdraw into himself only more anyway. So they both never mentioned it out loud.

Another two nights passed in the same fashion, with Sam inviting his brother to yet another continuation of the Black Hole documentary series and with both never having slept better than in those shared nights.

 

“Did you wash the Impala?” Dean asked, returning from the garage.

“Yes, the other day.”

“You were extra careful around the headlights?”

“Yes, Dean. Everything how you have repeatedly lectured me on.”

“You know she deserves the best,” he said so fondly, Sam was happy he had decided to clean her after all.

“I think you should take her out,” Sam suggested. Dean hadn't left the bunker since they had been to Montana. It was time for him to find the joy of the outside world again.

“Don't mind if I do,” Dean replied and told him he would leave tonight for a bar. “You wanna come along?”

Sam did. His feelings were quite clear about that and he knew to contribute this to the bond. And that was exactly why he declined coming along in the end. He had to get a better grip on this. Otherwise hunting would become nerve-wracking whenever they had to separate. He had been careful to store the books revolving around soul bonding in the depth of the bunker's library and had not taken them out so far to prevent his brother from seeing them. Once his brother was out for the night, probably trying to hook up with some girl at the bar, he would go through them again. Maybe find something he had missed.

“Suit yourself,” Dean said nonchalantly.

 

 

So, turned out everything came down to adjusting. Once Dean had left, Sam had buried his nose in books somewhere in the corner of the library. The bond was apparently an evolving and growing thing, assimilating the hosts' feelings and encompassing them like a flexible layer of sorts. It would adjust depending on the person's emotions. However, it originates from core personality traits or core emotions in relation to the partner. The bond would make them rather unreceptive to changes. Engaging into soul bonding implies that the partners are close, in most cases in love with each other, which means they consequently prefer to be together. This results in one major basic common ground for the bond to manifest on. Since it is mutual, they can accept it more easily. Once used to the sensation they will get a better handle on it naturally. They adjust. The problem with him and Dean was, however, the need to be together with Dean was Sam's major trigger in creating the bond, not Dean's. He didn't want to lose his brother to the extent where he shared his soul with him. Naturally his desire to be with Dean was stronger than the other way around. Of course Sam knows Dean loves him and wants to stay together, but they had been in two completely different states of mind when the bond was established. Which explains why Sam felt so needy to be with his brother and Dean did not and perhaps also why he felt so content waking up next to him, even though it was actually his brother with nightmares and not him. However, both ended up enjoying sleeping together, which could be an appease to Sam's longing to be with his brother round the clock.

In the end Sam just plainly had to get used to the feeling and habituation would come naturally. It would just take a little bit longer for him, that was all. Probably. There weren't really that many case studies and the authors were often more philosophizing about it than have actual basis for their assumptions, since they themselves could just guess what the bond would feel like, considering they couldn't draw from personal experience.

Sam sighed. It hadn't been three hours yet since Dean had left and Sam was already yearning his company. However, understanding his feelings helped a lot. Knowing how the bond was affecting him and why made it easier to put the situation in perspective. Now it was just a question of mind over matter. And Sam was certainly not a weak willed man. He couldn't let Dean find out about the bond and if this was his major bump in the road, he could certainly deal with it.

He carefully laid back the books, concealing them in the forest of literature and tried to ignore the deep rooted feeling of missing his brother by sleeping it off. He left the door open in case his brother wanted to sleep in his bed again. Though he was sure he would never initiate that on his own accord. Sam had to find ways to subtly invite him into it. The documentaries had been a good first start, but that wouldn't work forever and besides after tonight there weren't any installments left.


	8. Mind over soul

Dean hadn't taken him up on the unvoiced offer to sleep in his room again. But then Sam hadn't really thought he would. And although the invite had been for Dean's benefit, he had to admit that he himself had also slept better with his brother next to him. Which has become even more unequivocal after tonight's horrible state of sleep. It wasn't that he particularly had nightmares, but worry and stress had rendered his subconscious too active for a decent level of rest.

Exhausted, despite just having woken up, he abandoned his bed and marched out of his room. On the large desk to the library's entrance he saw a nearly empty bottle of scotch and a glass sitting next to it. Sam deduced his brother had drunk himself to sleep. However, normally Dean always made sure to clean everything up so Sam wouldn't be able to see it in the morning. Which meant Dean had hit it especially hard last night for him to leave the evidence so openly for Sam to see.

He grabbed the items and walked into the kitchen, disposing of the bottle first and then heading to give the glass a good scrub in the sink. However, before he could even get the soap, he managed to hit the glass not forcefully, but at the right angle on the sink, causing it to splinter into hundreds of pieces. Cheaply manufactured glass would often break this easily, much to Sam's annoyance now. A large part had lodged into his palm, framed by a dozen tinier ones all around. He subdued a groan of pain and held his injured hand under the spray of water to wash away some of the splinters without having to touch them and to wash away the by now steadily increasing stream of blood gushing out of the wounds.

From around the corner he could hear footsteps resonating through the hall and a few seconds later his brother was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Sam was still half way bent over the sink and just managed to turn around slightly to face his brother. Dean was scrutinizing his back up and down worriedly, searching for something Sam didn't know what. Once he stepped closer he could finally see the glass shards on top of the kitchen counter and the few spread on the ground. Dean's gaze returned back to his body, still looking for something apparently, but Sam hadn't had the chance to unveil that mystery after Dean saw his bleeding hand and had settled his attention there for good.

"Sam, what happened?” Dean immediately grabbed Sam's hand to inspect it closely.

“Nothing, the stupid glass just shattered on impact,” Sam explained.

Dean reached for a clean kitchen towel from one of the drawers next to them and carefully placed Sam's hand on it, so that the blood and water residue could drip down on it. He guided him to the library's table and sat him gently down, telling him to hold still.

“Stay, I'll be right back,” Dean ordered.

A quick trip to the garage and Dean was back with a first-aid kit. Dragging over a chair from the opposite side of the table, he sat down quickly in front of Sam to treat his brother's injury.

“Let's see what we got here,” Dean said and examined the bloody hand closer.

Sam hissed briefly, when one of the shards, or possibly several of them, cut deeper into his palm upon contact. Dean reached for the tweezers and started pulling out the glass shards, beginning with the large one in the middle.

“Careful,” Sam hissed, when Dean accidentally brushed over a tiny splinter with his thumb.

“Don't be a wuss, take it like a man,” Dean replied, pulling out another one.

It was a tedious process and took a while. And since Dean had completely taken charge, Sam was left doing nothing, which didn't really distract him from the regular jolts of pain whenever Dean picked out another splinter. So he opted for small talk.

“How was yesterday night?”

“Good,” Dean simply answered, not even lifting his head.

“Where did you go?”

“Southern Comfort.”

“That bar on 281? Isn't that a biker's nest?”

“If you can call those old white bearded thugs in too tight leather pants who can't drive longer than the five miles from home to the bar since a decade now bikers, then yap that's the bar.”

The only reason Dean would put up with old white bearded biker thugs in too tight leather pants who can't drive longer than the five miles from home to the bar since a decade now was because they usually tend to spend their money on drinks and the nightly bar games.

“You hustled them,” Sam concluded.

“Got 260 bucks,” Dean confirmed, grinning satisfied.

“They didn't figure out you pulled one on them?”

“Nah, too old, too drunk. Quite docile, really,” Dean said, looking for another shard. “Move your hand slowly, can you feel any splinters I can't see?”

Carefully and very slowly, Sam allowed his hand some movement, but then shook his head, after he declared it splinter free. Dean nodded once in acknowledgement and then resumed his treatment by cleaning and disinfecting the wounds.

“Pool?” Sam asked.

“Poker.”

“And you only got 260?”

“Well, I had 300, but there was this girl who was also in on the table and she asked me for the money back afterwards,” Dean explained and couldn't help but smirk at the memory. “For a little reward of course.”

Sam smiled back half-heartedly and averted his gaze to the ground in between the two of them. His chest contracted painfully.

“Man, she was bold,” Dean elaborated. “She wore that too tight, too short white Henley, buttons ripped open at her cleavage, hem riding over her exposed belly.”

_Shut up._

“And her legs, damn, so slender and long.”

_Shut up._

“Not her skirt though. Very short denim skirt. Very nice.”

_Shut up._

“Black curly hair, red plum lips.“

_Shut up!_

“She proposed to reimburse me for my graciousness, if I gave her the money back she had lost.”

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Sam couldn't completely stifle a groan at hearing about his brother's bar fling, but fortunately his brother mistook it for a cry of pain, caused by him bandaging Sam's hand.

“Sorry,” he said and softened his touch even more.

Sam didn't want to know. Never wanted to know. He hated it. Had always hated it.

Because it hurt.

But he swallowed it, as usual, and put an endearing smile on, which barely concealed his sadness and Dean should have noticed, since he was normally so attuned to Sam's every constitution. Mysteriously though, he had never noticed in over a decade now.

“You shouldn't do that anymore,” Sam said quietly.

“Hey, it was all consensual,” Dean defended himself.

“Not that.” _Yes, that._

“What then?”

“Don't hustle here in Kansas anymore, at least not here in Lebanon. As strange as it sounds, but the bunker is the closest we got to a home now. Which means we can't just up and leave should something go wrong, like we do with motels. It's best if we stay low key close to home,” Sam explained, his eyes still preferred downcast.

“Oh, yeah, makes sense,” Dean acknowledged.

“We're good here?” Sam stood up the second Dean finished putting the bandage on.

“Er, yeah,” Dean replied.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the first-aid kit and told him he would go replace it where it had been, thanked him once more, sincerely, and then vanished, before Dean could illustrate yesterday's story further.

 

Sam shut the door to the garage quickly behind him and couldn't help himself but slide down on it. This wasn't good. The feelings he had more or less successfully suppressed over half his life were steadily surfacing through the cracks in his armor and the reason behind it was the bond. Of course it knew it was there, locked in the depths of his heart, and it lit a fire under it to draw it out.

He heavily moved to get up and, following the need to rest somewhere more comfortable, he let himself sink down in the Impala. He felt exhausted, both mind and body. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he brushed a hand over his face once. The familiar scent of the car helped him relax. But only until he saw something from his peripheral vision that caught his attention.

There was a turquoise fabric lying in the foot well and before he realized it, he was already picking it up. It was a bra. And Sam rather quickly knew where it had come from. Dean's girl from yesterday must have forgotten it after they had made out in the Impala. Even though Dean had told him about it just minutes ago, he had still protected himself somewhat with the lack of knowledge concerning the details. Now vivid images cursed through his head.

He bumped his head against the window once, trying to block them out, but to no avail. It was just so much worse than before. Of course he had seen his brother together with a lot of girls in the past, he even encouraged it, when he thought Dean had finally found somebody who could make him truly happy, like Lisa. He had been able to do it, because he had managed to bury his feelings. But now the bond was acting up and he could literally feel it dwelling on that one emotion, calling it out, even intensifying it. The bond wants him to feel it again, the feeling he had dismissed effectively in the past.

No! He wouldn't let it! Not wanting to let his brother find out a stupid side effect of the bond was one thing, revealing to him that- No! Just no! He had to fight this no matter what.

What had been once a tingling was now a burning inside his chest. It grew hotter the more determined he became. This thing was starting to mess with Sam and it mentally as well as physically affected him. And Sam suddenly realized that the bond wasn't just a passive thing, it was an entity within that he was able to fight. Even though he wasn't sure to what extent he could fight it, but he could feel the more he resisted, the more it hurt. Which meant he had some leeway to influence it.

Gasping heavily for air, he grasped his chest tightly, trying to deal with the overwhelming sensation. He can't remember having read about physical pain in the books before, but it had always appeared to him that those who bonded their souls had been love struck idiots, so obviously nobody would actually find the need to fight this bond, they had wanted it.

_Mind over matter. Mind over matter. Mind over matter._

He repeated those words over and over in his head like a mantra. And after five minutes it seemed to finally calm him down.


	9. I shall burn until my soul admits I love you

The next days Sam did everything to avoid Dean. He would camp out somewhere remote in the bunker for the most part of the day, let Dean eat alone and whenever he tried to engage him in a conversation, Sam would only briefly participate and leave as soon as the situation allowed.

And at night he would leave the door closed.

It would be easier if he could force himself to leave the bunker for a longer period of time, but he was already feeling so exhausted by only ignoring Dean at home, he didn't have the strength to do more than that for now.

Dean became more and more persistent in finding out what was going on with Sam, but the latter refused to even acknowledge that there was a problem.

“Don't bullshit me, Sam. I can see something is clearly wrong with you,” Dean insisted, after having been yet again brushed off by his brother.

“It's nothing, Dean. Stop haunting me about this!”

“Sure, the minute you tell me what's been bothering you.” Dean didn't let loose.

“Why do you assume that there is something wrong?” Sam held up his arms in frustration.

“Maybe, because you are avoiding me for days now, you don't talk to me-”  
  
“I'm talking to you right now.”

“Yeah, with one foot out the door already. You run scared once I ask you about it, you hide from me, and you look like you're a freaking zombie. Between the two of us I'm not sure who gets more sleep lately.”  
  
“I'm sleeping just fine. Don't worry.”

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?”

“I'm fine, Dean,” Sam said for the thousandth time in the last three days now, which just earned him a disbelieving snort.

“Yeah, sure. You're the poster boy of 'I'm fine'.”  
  
“Just drop it already!”

“Tell me what's going on!”

“This is going nowhere!” Sam said exasperated. “I'm not repeating the same conversation over and over again. I'm fine. That's it. Leave me alone.”

Sam turned around and headed out of the kitchen. His brother had ambushed him there the second he had arrived to make himself a sandwich.

“Sam,” Dean called out in his low threatening voice and went after him.

Before his brother could get the dodge on him again, he quickly reached for his arm and spun him back around again. Sam jerked himself free like he had been burned by the sudden touch and it took both of them aback.

“Don't touch me...” He mumbled shocked.

“What the hell?” Dean asked confused.

“Sorry,” Sam immediately replied, not sure himself why he had reacted so intensely.

“Sam,” Dean tried once more, closing a step forward.

Sam immediately retreated, mumbling tirades of apologies and then, overwhelmed, ran away to his room.

He locked himself in and collapsed onto his bed. Working his brain, he tried to find an explanation for his panicked outburst, but he was too wired to understand anything at the moment.

A knock on his door startled him and he sighed almost painfully, because he didn't have it in him to go another round with his brother.

“Sam, I don't know what's wrong and I wish you would tell me, but,” he hesitated, leaving a long pause. “I made you lunch. You really don't look so well. I know- I think you're coming down with something. Just eat it, alright? I won't bother you.” Another pause. “Just be okay, Sammy.”

Sam could hear a soft clatter and after a moment retreating footsteps.

The same pattern continued for the next days with Sam refusing to come out of his room and Dean bringing him food and drinks to his bedroom door. Even though Sam didn't explain what was going on, he at least ate what Dean made him and that was the only reason why Dean allowed this situation to move on like this. But when the plates started to remain untouched and the water bottles unopened, he grew more and more concerned.

“Sam open the door! Or I swear I'm getting my gun and shoot the damn lock!” Obviously the lock pick set would be sufficient in this case, but he was too angry and worried to go at this patiently. “Sam! Fuck, at least answer so I know you're not frigging dead in there!”

“Just go,” he could faintly here his brother say. It sounded far too weak for his liking. “Please.”

“No can do, kiddo. Now open the door and let me in,” Dean tried again, relieved that his brother responded at last.

“Dean, I can't- I can't see you...” Sam said as if he was in pain.

“What do you mean you can't see me?”

“It will make this worse,” he answered, breathing heavily.

“What are you talking about? What's getting worse and why is it because of me? Damn it, Sam, open the door. NOW!”

He didn't get an answer, neither was he granted access to Sam's room.

“Please? Sammy, come on, it's me. Whatever it is I will help you. Since when don't you trust me anymore to keep you safe?” Dean said softly.

The door remained closed and Dean had already accepted the fact that he had to get in forcefully, when he suddenly could hear a soft click coming from the door. An extremely pale and sickly looking little brother opened up for him and Dean was beyond shocked how badly he looked. He had somehow known his brother was not feeling well, but he hadn't actually known how bad it was.

“Shit, Sam,” was all Dean could bring out. He helped his staggering brother back to bed and joined him to feel his temperature. “You're burning up. If you haven't eaten, please tell me you at least took some medicine.”

“Won't help with this,” Sam replied weakly.

“What is this? You know what's causing it?” Dean asked, trying to repeat the last days in his head, searching for some kind of clue as to what possibly could have caused this. They had stayed in the bunker, so how could something supernatural have made his brother sick.

“Can't help,” Sam repeated, barely able to keep up with what was happening.

“Hell I can't,” Dean replied. He earned a painful groan when he accidentally brushed over his chest and Sam cringed into a small ball, despite his enormous frame, clutching his shirt tightly. “Hey, hey, easy. Let me see.”

Too weak to resist, Sam had to let Dean unbutton his shirt, revealing an angry looking burn blossoming within and around Sam's anti-possession tattoo.

“What the hell?” Dean stared at it puzzled. “How did you get this burn?” He softly brushed over it.

“Don't touch... Please... don't touch me,” Sam almost whined.

“This looks really bad, Sam. You have to tell me what this is.”

“Won't let this happen... I won't let it control me... Can fight it.” The moment he spoke the words he almost screamed out in pain and Dean could have sworn he saw the burn glow.

“Fight what? Sammy, tell me!” Dean shook him as harsh as his condition allowed.

“It's trying to force me... Force me to accept- I can't, Dean. I can't...” Sam cried.

“What are you talking about? Is it a curse? A little bit more information would be really helpful at this point, kiddo.”

“I can't, Dean... I can't... can't... can't do it...” He repeated over and over again. “You- you have to stay away... from me.” An agonizing scream pierced through the room and this time Dean was sure, he saw the red glow emanating underneath the tattoo.

“Listen to me, whatever this is, it's somehow getting worse the more you fight it. Just stop. Stop resisting.”

“No-no! No no no no... Please, no...” Sam cried even harder.

“Sammy, come on.” It broke Dean's heart to see his little brother so conflicted and in so much pain, not knowing how to help him.

“I can't do that... I tried so hard... so long...”

“You can do it, just let go,” Dean tried to soothe the agony wreaking through Sam's body.

“Please don't make me... Dean,” Sam pleaded and Dean was almost unable to withstand the sad, teary eyes that were currently fixed on him. “It'll ruin everything... You won't-”

“I won't what?” Dean asked perplexed.

“Please, just don't make me... Can't bear you hating me...”

“I would never hate you-”

“You don't know! You don't know what I've been hiding all these years... You will leave and you will hate me-”

“Now you listen to me! You really think there is anything I could hate you for? Something I would let you die over? I've been literally through everything with you and if by now I haven't grown to hate you, which is virtually impossible, there ain't anything that will change that now! I would go through hell, purgatory, and heaven again, and I still would never let anything get between us! You hear me? I said I would endure every hellish experience a hundred times over again for you! So stop whatever it is you're fighting, because you can rest assured I'll still be around to annoy the shit out of you!”

“Dean...” Sam whined, clutching Dean's shirt, hiding his face in it.

“It's okay. I'll be here. And there is nothing you can say or do that will drive me away,” Dean said soothingly. “I promise.”

Sam groaned both in pain and inner conflict, although the latter seemed to be more of the cause. He was shaking, holding tightly onto his brother. And slowly he let the emotions out of the locked cage he had kept them in for so many years, let them curse through every fiber of his being, making him accept what was and what won't ever change and, suddenly, the burning stopped.

Once he admitted to himself that he was in love with his brother.


	10. Your light, the beacon of my soul

He was still lying there, curled up to Dean's warm side, his face burrowed against his broad chest, which had always been a symbol of safety for Sam since he had been a baby. Calming, soothing – a place he would call home, when nothing seemed to stay the same for longer than just a blink of the time. Dean was his home, not the countless motels, not Stanford, not even the Impala could offer him the same sense of security and love Dean unmistakably provided for Sam and he was not self-deprecating enough to believe that he wasn't home for Dean, too. Dean would always welcome him in his arms, make him his center of attention, the main recipient of his love. Maybe that's why it had been so easy to fall in love with him and so difficult not to be.

Sam has been awake now for awhile, just not comfortable enough, or maybe too comfortable, to break the contact with Dean, to lose the warmth he provided. He could hear Dean's heartbeat steadily resonating against his head and he knew for sure it's the most beautiful sound in the world. It's the only sound that keeps him here, the only thing worth living for. Sam stared ahead and sadly came to notice that there was something missing. Had been missing for a long time. The memory like a shadow creeping through him and he quickly shut his eyes again, trying to dismiss it.

Strong arms immediately stroked over his back and arm, having sensed Sam's discomfort right away.

“Do you ever miss it?” The words were out before Sam even realized he had spoken.

“Miss what?” Dean asked right back, his voice rough from sleep, his hands never stopping his soothing caress on Sam.

“The amulet?” Sam brushed absent-mindedly over Dean's sternum, picturing it back again.

Dean shifted closer, held Sam tighter, the memory for him just as unpleasant as it was for Sam.

“More than you think,” he admitted softly.

“When you discarded it, I-I think I've never felt this torn up before.”

Dean covered Sam's idling hand with his own, wishing for a thousandth time he hadn't thrown away what he had come later to miss so dearly. His thumb wandered over Sam's fingers, caressing him in a silent apology.

“Felt like you were throwing me away,” Sam admitted softly, watching their held hands now as if it were a wonder in itself, a mystery as to how he deserved any kind of comfort coming from Dean.

“There is a long list of regrets, you'll find that on the top somewhere between torturing souls in hell and slaughtering men on earth,” Dean said, the ghost of a cold smile on his lips.

“I'm sorry I made you put it on the list.”

They were still not looking at each other, still tight in their embrace. It took another five minutes in silence before Dean started talking again.

“Tell me now what happened back there?”

“I can't tell you... probably not ever. But it's over and it won't ever happen again. Can you trust me enough to let this go?” Sam's raw voice talking to his chest.

“Sam-”  
  
“Just this one time I need you to let this go. It's over and for the rest of my... life,” Sam realized that that meant far less time now than it did two weeks ago, but it didn't matter; as long as he had Dean he didn't need more, “I won't ever let it happen again.” He tipped his head back, craning his neck as far as possible to look at Dean. To let Dean see the importance of the request in his eyes. Sam loved Dean, yes. He loved him since he started seeing the world for what it truly was. When he came to know that the fire that burned down their home and took their mother wasn't a simple fire, when he realized their Dad would never truly be just their Dad, when he accepted the fact that he would never have a home, and when he saw that despite everything Dean would always stay just the same. Be his brother, be his home, be everything he needed. Be his. And he will love him until the rest of his life comes to an end. Probably even long after then. The bond has nested itself deep within the feelings he held for his brother and even if he wanted to, it will never let go again. “Please.”

Dean stayed silent for a long time, ringing with himself whether to comply to Sam's wish or demand the truth about what happened.

“You knew what it was.” It was a statement, demanding no further explanations and Sam knew Dean had let go. For him.

Sam nuzzled back into Dean's shirt again, smelling the unmistakable scent Dean's, that he'd recognize everywhere without a doubt.

“Yes.”

Dean sighed once over the top of Sam's head, resting his chin in the jungle of his hair. “Why can't I know?”

The answer comes simple, almost immediate.

“Because I can't bear you throwing me away.”

 

 

“Will you eat again now?” Dean asked somewhat annoyed, having worried enough about Sam's eating habits for the last months.

“Yeah. Let me cook?” Sam replied, reaching for the knife Dean was holding, ready to cut the tomatoes.

“Okay by me,” Dean grunted back. He moved aside, lingering next to him for no reason at all, just not able to leave Sam with his new found zen yet.

Sam was oddly at peace since this morning. Whatever had happened yesterday changed something and he wasn't sure yet how to deal with it. Dean had picked up on it, too, desperately wanting to ask about it, but Sam had seemed so sure in his promise that it didn't matter anymore and that it wouldn't happen again. He needed him to refrain from prying and even though it's one of the hardest things for Dean to do, to not worry about Sam, he would allow his little brother his wish for now.

“So I was thinking,” Sam started, though not stopping from his task. “Let's sleep in the same bed?”

Dean almost keeled over hearing Sam's request. As far as he was concerned they never had been sleeping together, at the very least it was not something to be mentioned by daylight anywhere else than their bedrooms.

“We're grown men, Sam. The hell?” Dean was still trying to reel back from the initial shock.

“So?”

“So? Sam, wha- where is this coming from?”

“I can't sleep very well lately. You being there helps. S'all,” Sam said simply. “And you sleep better, too.” He pointed out, not accusingly, just knowingly.

“Sam, that's- I mean... come on, dude, that's uncool,” Dean replied.

“Living in shitty motels is uncool, doing credit scams is uncool, shoveling around in graves is uncool, Dean. We're not really living a normal life anyways. And nobody needs to know,” Sam explains.

“That's beside the point. Men don't sleep in the same bed, Sam.”

“We've done it before,” Sam interjects.

“Yeah, Sam, when the jackass of a motel clerk thought it'd be funny to give two random dudes a king-size bed. This is not the same. You have a bed and I have a bed,” Dean insisted.

Sam just sighed and turned back to cutting the rest of the tomatoes.

“Just think about it, Dean. Why is some macho crap more important than peaceful sleep. We need to work through a lot of shit and at the moment the answer to it is you and me. You said it yourself, we need time off to get back on our feet. This helps. I need it.” _You need it._

Before Dean could say another word the door bell interrupted their talk and the phrase saved by the bell came to mind. He hurriedly made his way out of the kitchen.  
  
“Dean,” Sam called out before he was out of sight and Dean reluctantly turned around. “Just think about it, okay?”

With one awkward jerky nod he vanished from the hallway.

Sam knew it was a bold request, but he also knew that Dean needed to recover first before they could go on with their lives. Normally he would have thought that going back to hunt would help with that, but Dean was adamant on staying in the bunker for now. And since he hasn't made any progress so far on his own, Sam had decided to take matters into his own hands. He still felt uncomfortable being so close to his brother when his feelings were more than brotherly, being in the same bed clearly wouldn't help with his guilt and also with his fear of Dean finding out, however, as he has repeatedly proven Sam would do anything for his brother. Making them sleep in the same bed for both their mental benefits doesn't even compare to anything else he has ever done.

“Sam, look what the cat dragged in!” Dean shouted from the main area.

“You have a cat?” Sam could faintly here.

Following Dean to the lobby, he was greeted by the familiar sight of their favorite trench coat angel. He couldn't explain very well why, but he felt truly happy to see him. His focus had lied entirely on Dean, him, and the bond for the past two weeks, he only realized now how completely exhausted it had made him. Not to mention the little battle he had fought against the bond had put him through the ringer. A friend was a welcome distraction at this point.

“Cas, great to see you.” Sam stepped closer to give him a proper welcome. “How have you been? Any clues regarding your grace?”

“What is going on?” Cas asked bewildered, even guarded. He was staring Sam and Dean up and down, from one to the other and back again.

“Cas?” Dean looked at Cas concerned. The angel appeared shell shocked.

“What is this? Why are you glowing like this?” Cas took an apprehensive step forward, still scrutinizing them as if they were alien beings.

“I'm what now?” Dean cleared his throat consciously, not sure how to respond. “Err... men don't glow, Cas. That's- You say that to chicks when they're, you know, pregnant. Why am I even explaining- Cas, what's wrong?”

“Both of you, you're radiating some strange light. It's so bright and strong. What is this? It's emanating all around you.”

“Light?” Sam asked confused, looking down his body once and then Dean's, not finding anything unusual. “You see anything?”

“I think I'd notice a moving giant lamp next to me before an angel has to point that out to me,” Dean replied.

“And this... thread,” Cas began, stepping closer, looking at something between Sam and Dean. He reached out, trying to touch whatever it was he was seeing. “I've never seen anything like it.”

He kept staring at it, inspecting it with utmost puzzlement, always coming back to look at Sam and Dean for any kind of clue as to what this was. After several moments he grew more wary until he closed his eyes and exhaled in frustration.

“What did you do?” He asked accusingly.

“Could you stop talking like we actually understand what you're babbling about? From the beginning, what's got your feather's ruffled?”

“I told you, you're glow- you're engulfed in light. Whatever it is it's affecting you both. I'm not sure if it's malicious... It doesn't look like it, but I can't be sure. I don't understand what this is! Humans don't have this aura surrounding them. You don't have auras like that, you never had!”

“Something supernatural? You think we're cursed?” Dean asked concerned.

Cas contemplated his answer, staring at the supposed light around them again. “I.. don't think so. It is some kind of inscription though. However, it doesn't have the typical malevolent trace to it. It's strong. I can't even touch the core, I'm merely able to feel the texture...” He trailed off, moving his hand along the invisible thread he was seeing, following it to it's source. “It's so strange. It's actually pulsating as if it were alive.” Completely entranced by the sensation he didn't even notice Sam until he was standing right in front of him. Sam's eyes grew wide realizing Cas was actually seeing the bond. He never knew the bond had a metaphysical appearance, much less that angels could see it. Sam had been so concerned that Dean might figure out his little secret that it never even crossed his mind that someone else could find out about the bond.

“Is it... It looks like it's coming from your-”

“Shit, Dean! I forgot the stove was still running,” Sam said quickly, looking at his brother expectantly.

“Sure, I'll be right back. You keep being ogled in the meantime,” Dean replied, heading for the kitchen.

“Could you get me a cup of coffee while you're there?” Sam asked his brother's retreating back, knowing the coffee can was empty. He couldn't be sure his brother would actually brew a new pot for him, but he had to try to stall some time.

“Yeah well, we'll see what I can do,” he answered before he vanished down the corridor.

The second he lost sight of his brother, Sam grabbed Cas by the arm and dragged him to the library, as far away from the kitchen as possible.

“Cas, we don't have much time,” Sam whispered. “You have to keep quiet about this. Dean can't know.”

The angel scrutinized him suspiciously. “You know what this is. This thing...”

“Yes,” he admitted, sighing.

“Sam, what did you do? Has this something to do with how you two got rid of the mark?” Cas was furious.

“Yes.”

“What is it with you Winchesters! You run from one misery to another. Do you realize that this power has rooted itself in your soul?!” He hissed, the best thing he could muster to keep his voice down.

“I know, Cas. That was the whole point actually,” Sam tried to explain.

“What point? How did you remove the mark? I thought Cain took care of that.”

“He did, but remember, Dean died when Metatron stabbed him. He was dead and the mark just kept him alive.”

“So, removing the mark meant Dean would turn back to the constitution before he turned into a demon,” Cas recognized the connection.

“Exactly. See, I had to find a way to keep him alive even after the mark was gone.”

“The thread... It's running between you two... And it's connected to your soul,” realization slowly dawned on the angel. “You bound him to you?!”

Sam took a helpless breath, there was no other way to admit this.

“Yes... It was the only way,” Sam replied, his eyes pinched in an agonized grimace.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” Cas asked outraged. “Souls are very sensitive. The tiniest disruption to their structure can break them. Binding them together is dangerous. Everything that happens to one soul triggers a direct response in the other. Even if it's something positive, it can have a destructive reaction for the other soul and that in turn can result in a backlash again. They're not meant to be stretched and mangled to your will!”

“The bond, it's working around all that. It's intelligent, I don't know how else to describe it other than that it adapts to our souls perfectly,” Sam tried to explain carefully what the bond was doing to him and his brother. Though he still didn't know what it was doing to Dean exactly. So far he didn't seem affected at all.

“You can't know that, Sam! It might create subtle changes and you wouldn't even realize that before it's too late. Are you telling me nothing is different?”

Sam sheepishly averted his gaze.

“Sam...” Cas said disapprovingly.

“Well yes, they have been some changes, but so far it's no big deal. It's under control. Cas, it's not evil. I know, okay? I can feel it. The changes are just amplified feelings one already has. In fact, it's actually not changing anything. It's merely intensifying certain emotions. And as far as I can tell only those connected to Dean.”

“This is not right,” Cas muttered, shaking his head. “How could you have done this without telling Dean?”

“He wouldn't have approved,” Sam said. “And that would eventually have left him to die, or worse, have him become a demon again. I didn't have any other choice!”

“You always have a choice!” Cas barked back.

Sam sighed. Cas was right. He knew it was unforgivable to go behind Dean's back and make the decision for him. There had been a choice. Dean would have chosen differently.

“It's done, Cas. Can't undo it anymore,” Sam said, breaking it down to the essential part.

“You can tell Dean!”

“Think about it, it's better if he doesn't know! He will hate me for it and the worst part is, he doesn't have a choice but stay with me. The bond will not let us separate that easily. Even though it doesn't seem to have an effect on Dean, it's already a struggle for me to be away from him for a few hours and that's still a separation within city limits. As much as he will detest me, he'd still not let me suffer like that. He will stay and he will be miserable. I can't do that to him. The fact that the bond doesn't influence him is actually a blessing. He will never know that anything changed. Dean can live on just like before with nothing holding him back.”

Sam looked at Castiel pleadingly. Logically speaking it was for the best to leave Dean in the dark and he hoped Cas would come to see it that way too.

“One coffee with that awful non-fat soy crap you call milk,” Dean said, entering the library with a steaming mug. “And by the way, the stove was off, college boy.”

“Really? That's weird, could have sworn I turned it on. Sorry about that,” Sam replied quickly.

“Yeah, really. And I had to make new coffee, princess. Have you at least figured out what this light thing is while I played maid?” He turned to Castiel expectantly.

Cas stared blankly back at Dean, not sure what to say.

“I... was mistaken,” he finally replied. “Th-There is no light.”

“You said I was freaking glowing five minutes ago, Cas. How can you be mistaken now? You said there was a light.”

“Yes, I said that... then... Now it's different,” Cas tumbled over the words.

“What is it, Cas? Is there a light, or isn't there? Yes or no. It's not that hard,” Dean asked frustrated and annoyed.

“What Cas is trying to say is that he saw a light, at least he thought he saw one, and now the light's gone,” Sam tried to help out.

“What, it just went poof?” Dean raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

“I must have seen things... There is no light...”

God, Sam hoped it didn't sound as pathetic to Dean as it did to him. Castiel was clearly not adapt to lying on the spot.

Dean stared at both of them for a minute, before he spoke again. “You have ten seconds to come up with a better story.”

Cas glanced awkwardly toward Sam, helpless with the situation. Sighing, Sam stepped in.

“Cas took a closer look at me and tried to do his usual thing. He tried to heal me, see if it goes away. And it did.” He turned to Castiel. “Can you do the same to Dean, too?”

It took Cas a moment to figure out what Sam meant. He quickly tabbed Dean on the forehead with two of his fingers and pretended to heal him.

“It's gone now, too,” he said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Dean still looked like he didn't believe them.

“So, why the whole stutter train, _Cas_?” he emphasized Castiel's name, wanting to listen to him explain the situation, not his brother.

“I-I,” he started. Noticing he had stuttered again, he tried again to be more believable. “I still don't know what it was. It was unnatural and shouldn't have been attached to you, but I had no problem healing it.”

“Doesn't explain why you two have been acting so weird,” Dean pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Sam...” Cas threw a quick glance toward him. “He didn't want me to tell you.”

“Now why is that?” He asked Castiel, but was sternly looking at his brother.

“He was afraid you'd push yourself to go hunt. Find out what it was,” he replied surprisingly convincing. “He said you two are still working things out.”

That bit he had actually known from Dean's phone call earlier last week, but it seemed to work just fine as an explanation regardless.

“Sam,” Dean sighed. “I think I was the one who told you we needed to take some we-time, before we go on the next hunt. And I meant it, but if there is something cursing us, of course we have to figure out what it is.”

“It i-wasn't a curse,” Cas chimed in. “And it's gone now anyway.”

“You still want to go out, look for what it was?” Sam gambled now. Offering made their lie more believable and he only did it, because he knew Dean was still so against on hunting, giving him the chance he would leave the whole thing alone. But if he didn't, if he were to actively investigate it then that would make hiding the bond a whole lot harder.

“You have no clue what it was?” Dean asked Castiel once more.

“No,” Cas simply answered.

“And it's really gone? Nothing left? Everything as it should be?”

“Everything as it should be...” Castiel confirmed, glancing toward Sam once when Dean wasn't looking. He could still see the bond clearly. How could he not? It was like a Times Square billboard right in front of him. Nothing was as it should be.

“I'll think about it. There have been a lot more supernatural occurrences here than there should be,” he said, throwing a meaningful look at Sam. “You wanna join us for lunch, Cas?”

 

 

“It's delicious,” Cas said with an awkward smile on his face, after having eaten a fork of spaghetti.

“I know you don't actually taste how good this is. Your loss, really,” Dean replied. Castiel's grace might be weak at the moment, but he was still an angel and everything to him tasted like molecules as he had once described it. “But it's good to see you learned some human traits. Pleasantries, or as I'd like to call it: lying straight to somebody's face.”

“Yes well, on my quest to find my remaining grace I have become forced to interact more with humans. You learn things...” Castiel explained.

“I bet you do. You're not hard on the eyes, the chicks must be lining up to get a piece of you,” Dean presumed, mischievous smirk on his face.

“A piece of me? I don't understand... Do they want my grace?” Castiel asked bemused.

“What Dean means is that women could easily fall in love with you,” Sam tried to help out. “Like with April. Minus the torturing and killing bit to the end.”

“I see...” Castiel replied a little bit unsure still, until it really clicked apparently. “Some things make... much more sense now...”

Dean stifled a laugh. “So what brings you here, Cas? Just here to see me mark free or is there something going on in angel world that you need help with?”

“I met with a brother of mine and he told me about an ancient spell that should be able to locate my remaining grace.”

“What kind of spell?” Sam asked intrigued.

“I'm not sure yet. He only heard rumors regarding the existence of such a locator spell. It has been so long ago though, any traces have gone cold.”

“You sure that spell is legit? I mean why haven't you heard of it before?” Dean pointed out.

“There are many angels who lived before my time. A generation with their own set of legends and prophecies, and as such also ancient relics and magical spells. The brother I have talked to is older than me, not old enough to know the spell, but old enough to have heard about it.”

“How can we help?” Sam asked.

“I was hoping you could help look through your library. Maybe we find some clues in there.”

“You think the Men of Letters might have found the spell?” The library held an enormous amount of wisdom in it, but Sam wasn't sure it would actually provide the spell Castiel was looking for. “I mean they have a lot of books and case files for anything supernatural out there, but if it's as old as you say I doubt even the Men of Letters have stumbled over it.”

“It's my best chance at finding it,” he simply answered.

“But are you even sure it's here? Couldn't it be in heaven?”

“That is unlikely. With so many angels in heaven a spell like that wouldn't go unnoticed. It makes much more sense for it to have been lost here on earth where angels are scarce and limited to act on God's will. Well, at least that was once the case. It was never supposed to be our playground after being cast out of heaven.”

“Alright, geek boy here knows about any book there is in the library. If there are clues, I'm sure we'll find them,” Dean said.

“I'll set things up. Most of the literature won't help us, I can sort through them and we'll work with what's left.” Sam stood up right away, having a few ideas where to start on their research, eager to begin.

Dean regarded Sam's leftovers as a personal affront, but his protests were stifled before they could even find their way over his tongue by Sam dragging Cas to the library.

The next two days consisted of research, research, and more research. Although Sam had considerably reduced the amount of stacks to go through it was still a lot. However, it was remarkable to see how Sam breezed through them. He alone read more lore than Dean and Castiel combined. Granted Dean had never been much of a fan of reading and Castiel was not in his best form with his remaining grace weakening him, but it was still an incredible achievement.

Most of the books and files were useless. They didn't seem to hold the answer they were looking for. Although it was hard to even define what they were looking for, since they had to keep their eyes open for anything that could remotely be tied to the locator spell Cas desperately needed to find his grace.

“Come on, Cas, let's get you to bed,” Dean said, after Castiel swirled dangerously close to falling of his chair for the fourth time in five minutes.

“I'm good, I can still go on,” Castiel weakly protested, but let himself be dragged away by Dean nonetheless.

“Sure, tell that to your pillow,” Dean just replied, repressing the urge to roll his eyes.

Sam decided to sort the different piles on the table, so that he could put those books and documents that they've read and considered useless back to their rightful place.

“The baby is down. Should he get up tonight, you're the one who's gonna take care of him.” Dean reentered the library.

Sam sighed. “Nothing so far pointed to the spell. I'm really not sure we'll find anything here. What if we'll take too long and Cas gets worse? He could be spending the time to actually find something out there.”

“He doesn't have any clues to follow even if he's out there. I mean he could try Metatron in heaven again, but we all know he wouldn't be very forthcoming, seeing as he's currently rotting in a prison cell,” Dean pointed out, pouring himself two fingers of whiskey. “You want some?”

Sam shook his head. He wasn't actually one to drink that much. Sure whenever he hit rock bottom after somebody close had yet again died or he had let his brother down for what felt like the millionth time, then he would seek comfort in those poisonous liquids. But compared to his dad and Dean he didn't drink nearly as much or as often as they had and do. The last time he drank himself oblivious was when he cured Dean from being a demon. And that was not a memory he was too eager to revisit.

“Do you think _we_ should be out there, looking for information? I mean that's kinda what we do,” Sam said hesitantly.

“You got any leads?” Dean counterasked, earning a denying shake from his brother. “Then no.”

“And if we had?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” Dean simply said. He was still standing next to the table, emptying his glass now, ready to go to bed. “You coming?”

“Nah, I'll finish these first,” Sam replied, pointing to a stack of three case files. He has been staying late behind since Castiel had arrived. It didn't bother him and it's not like he had anything else to do. Sleep was not something that came easily, so why bother trying?

For a moment Dean looked disapproving until he sighed and settled into the chair in front of Sam.

“Hand one over,” Dean demanded, slightly annoyed.

“Dean, you don't have to. Go to bed,” Sam said. “I can handle this.”

“You going to leave them alone if I do?” Dean asked skeptical.

“No, but-”

“Then I guess I stay,” Dean interjected matter-of-factly. He stared at Sam expectantly, holding one hand out for him to pass the folder.

Sam huffed amused once and then complied. A simple act like that was already able to make his heart grow warmer and remember why he was in love with his brother. Dean always cared for him. It didn't matter if he showed it by grand gestures, like trading his soul for Sam's life, or small ones, like choosing to drive the well paved but cop littered high ways instead of the bumpy side roads whenever Sam was sleeping and trying to find a comfortable position with his long limps in that cramped space. Sam had always been so much more in love with the strong, caring brother than the hot and handsome one. Yes, his brother was beautiful, even more so now after the long years on the road that came with the grim wrinkles and creases. Those incredible emerald eyes, those perfectly shaped lips, and the beautiful freckles Sam could get lost staring at for hours were certainly enough reasons to fall in love with him instantly. However, being Dean's brother has allowed Sam to be a firsthand witness of the seemingly unlimited vastness of his love to give. That was one of the reasons why it had been easier to ignore his feelings toward Dean for the better part of his life. He loved him for so much more than just the sexual attraction. The brotherly and not so brotherly love he held for him were very closely interwoven, it was hard to differentiate when one seemed more predominant than the other. Sam simply loved his brother. If it were any other person and Dean knew, he'd probably be mocked by him for being so innocently in love. A relationship without the sexual aspect, Dean could never have, but Sam had been living like that for his whole life.

The bond now complicated matters. After allowing himself to delve into his forbidden feelings, something changed. It wasn't that he loved his brother more than before, Sam doubted even that was possible, he was more aware of his feelings though probably. It changed his resignation to be never more than Dean's little brother. His want for reciprocation was flaming up inside of him, the need to have Dean's eyes on him for different reasons has become overwhelming. And the way he had figured out the bond so far, the ache will only get stronger.

“This one's a waste,” Dean groaned and poured himself another glass.

“Same here,” Sam sighed resigned.

“Tell me something?” Dean asked after a minute in silence. “Why are you so eager to go back hunting? I thought you hated it.”

“I hated it ten years ago and not that I'm all elated about it now, but it's our life and I'm okay with it. It's long stopped being a matter of hating or loving it. Angels and demons don't really care about our opinion, you know.”

“So what about your normal life? You've given up on that?” Dean asked seriously.

Sam huffed. As if a normal life was a remote possibility after everything. “I think that ship has sailed.”

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't come for you at Stanford. Maybe you did have a shot at an apple pie life and I just yanked it away,” Dean said absently.

“No, Dean,” Sam denied immediately. “We were destined to play on the supernatural chess board long before we were even born. Had you come or not, it wouldn't have mattered. Jess... she would have died anyway, Azazel didn't really approve of my college endeavor. I should have never gotten her involved.”

“You couldn't have known,” Dean interrupted.

“Neither could you,” Sam replied.

“Guess you're right. We never really stood a chance. But it's different with you and me. I always wanted to become a hunter. I practically asked for it. Who would have known fate would be such a bitch,” Dean said, emptying another finger of whiskey. “Normal life doesn't sound so bad now.”

Sam mustered him for a moment curiously in the time it took Dean to refill his glass.

“Wait, do you want out?” Sam asked bemused. “You're thinking about quitting hunting?”

“What do I know, Sam...” Dean was already intoxicated from all the alcohol. “What I know for certain is that we've been pulled through shit all our lives, that we've sacrificed everything and almost everyone in the process, that we've been turned against each other more times than I can remember to count, and... that I have so much blood on my hands that I will never be able to wash them clean. But what I know clearer than anything else,” Dean said, staring into Sam's eyes with so much certainty, “is that once we get out there again, they will take even more. They will take and take and take, until nothing is left and then those sons of bitches will take even more, because they'll always find something. There's always a new low. Tell me, Sammy, who's left? Castiel? Maybe Charlie is next?” Dean bitterly glared into his glass for a moment before he continued. “But the scariest thing is knowing they will find a way to take you away from me eventually. Probably make it so your blood will be added to my hands. And I can't take that thought anymore, Sammy.” He looked up, eyes watery with unshed tears. “Only you I can't lose. What did I live for, for what did I go through all this when you just end up dead, too?!” Dean breathed heavily, only calming down after a few moments. “I just want peace for a goddamn second. For the first time I want us to grow old, Sammy. To go fat and bold somewhere far from civilization and the next supernatural shit that always comes with it.” Dean lingered on that thought for a while longer, before he apparently gave up and just shook his head. “I don't know why I'm saying this, not like it's in our cards anyway. Guess I'm just frustrated.”

“Dean, I-I didn't know-” Sam was so completely taken aback by Dean's revelation. “I always thought...”

“Doesn't matter, “ Dean merely said. “I'm gonna hit the sack.”

Dean quickly rose, suddenly, not very comfortable to let the conversation drag on.

“Dean,” Sam called after him, before he was out of the room.

“Yeah?” Dean turned back reservedly.

“You're not gonna lose me. Not if I can help it. What these last ten years have proven is that they're not gonna get us that easily without a fight. I have you to look out for me. And you have me to look out for you. I believe that these many years of hardship are not proof of a fight against us, but our fight against them. If it was up to angels, demons, gods, and monsters, it would have been over a long time ago. We would have died and the world would have ended. But it was us who fought and it was us who changed their plans. Yes, not everything we did turned out as we would have liked it. We have lost a lot. But all in all I believe we are doing right. We've been the wild cards in this whole supernatural scheme, we've crossed their plans more than once and considering we're only human that's gotta count for something, don't you agree?” He took a breath, trying to find the next words. “Together we fight, together we die. Even if Death himself were to come for me, I won't leave you. I know better now.”

Dean watched him for a long time with that unreadable almost sad expression of his, before he nearly smiled. “Together forever, huh? Sounds like a bad chick flick.”  
  
“More like the story of our lives,” Sam commented, smiling now, too.

“Shut up.” Dean barked before he left, tired, but with a small smile now on his face.

 

 

“I might have found something,” Sam exclaimed.

Cas was sitting in front of him, reading currently through Peruvian legends, when he stared up to Sam. Dean was outside fixing Cas' car, which apparently made some pretty concerning rattling noises on the last sixty miles on Castiel's way to the bunker.

“The Men of Letters have archived numerous articles about world occurrences which couldn't be explained, not even by them, and collected them in this folder. Get this, there is a rock in Nepal that shattered upon a lightning strike, but there was a part that stayed so completely in tact, it actually looked man made, like a massive block of stone broken neatly out of it. After the lightning destroyed the stone's outer parts, it revealed an actual script carved into the surface. Nobody knows what it means, not even the language the text is written in could be identified. What's even more interesting is that when they tried to transport the stone for the first time five hundred years ago, the sky darkened and the earth shook.”

“An earthquake?”

“Tribal knowledge says it only shook around the stone in a ten mile radius. They believe it was the act of God, enraged by humans for touching the Divine Stone; that's what they've been calling it since then.”

“You think it might be the spell?” Castiel asked, not sure whether there was a connection to what they were looking for.

“The Men of Letters were able to decipher one word out of the script: Zaphkiel. Does that ring a bell to you?” Sam asked.

Castiel cocked his head to the side, bewildered. “Zaphkiel was a powerful angel. He was sent to earth to determine the very first prophet, to find someone who could carry the knowledge of God. And after doing so appoint the prophet an archangel for protection. God left it up to him to find the right person.”

“So maybe the angel used or perhaps created the spell to find the divine. He might have searched for the first prophet using that script.”  
  
“Sam, you might be right,” Cas said almost excited now. “Zaphkiel lived long before my time and had been entrusted with the task to find the first prophets by God himself. If that stone holds Zaphkiel's word, it is entirely possible it could help me find my remaining grace.”

“You want to go check it out?”  
  
“Yes.”

“But how will you get to Nepal? You can't just zap yourself there the way you're weakened, right? You're gonna go by plane?” Sam asked concerned.

“I will ask a brother of mine to escort me. There are still a few I can trust and who are willing to help me,” Castiel replied.

“Maybe we should go with you...” Sam said worriedly. They couldn't just leave a friend alone when he needed help after all.

“No, Sam, I'll be fine. You stay here with your brother and sort everything out,” Cas said, convinced it was the right thing. “You will have to tell Dean eventually. He will understand. Maybe not right away, but he will eventually.”  
  
“I'm not so sure, Cas,” Sam said sadly.

“You two share a strong bond, long before you bound your souls together, and knowing you brothers there is absolutely nothing that will separate you.”

“I wish you were right.” Sam looked distraught.

“Sam, I must apologize,” Cas said after a minute in silence. “At first I was enraged you would do something so unthinkable as to bind his soul to you, but I, now, understand your reasons. You did it to save Dean. And let's not disregard the fact that you made a sacrifice to do so. You did give him half your life after all. And you knew what would await you after sharing your soul with him, but it didn't waver your determination. Dean has that uncanny characteristic to him which allows him to fight and protect the people he loves to an extent that is beautifully sacrificial. He shines strong and bright. But you, Sam, don't come second to him. You are capable to love and sacrifice as much as your brother, if not even more so. No matter what the cost you would pay it in a heartbeat. I'm not saying it is always the right thing to do, but I recognize it is always for the right reasons.” Cas paused. “Take the time to bring Dean back on the right track. He seems a little lost at the moment. He needs you, Sam.”

Sam nodded shakily, trying to process what Castiel said, however hard it was to recognize the kind words. “I'll try,” he said hoarsely. “I don't know how to tell him. He has no idea.”

“Sam, as much as the bond has been affecting you, you can be sure it has done the same to Dean,” Cas pointed out.

“What? No- He hasn't said anything- There were no signs...” Sam babbled confused.

“Have you told him that you're feeling different?” Cas cocked his eyebrow. “You two are not really the talk and share kinda type,” he said with a small smile.

“No, we're not,” Sam admitted with a sigh. “So you think he's figured it out?”

“I assume he must have recognized something has changed. However, I doubt he knows to what extent.”

Sam exhaled loudly, not sure how to tackle this problem in the near future. Not entirely sure if he even wanted to. A part of him still believed it was for the better to leave Dean in the dark.

“I fixed your car,” Dean chimed in, entering the library with grease stained hands. “Little tip, if you can't drive a stick, steal an automatic. Took me hours to repair the clutch.”

“I borrowed it,” Castiel responded meekly.

“Sure. Next time you _borrow_ another car, make certain you know how to drive it,” Dean replied unfazed.

“Cut him some slack. It's not like they had driving lessons in heaven,” Sam interjected.

“Maybe it's time,” Dean just said. “How's the search going?”

“Sam might have found the spell. I'll be going to check it out,” Castiel answered.

“Seriously? Wow, that's great. Where is it?” Dean was genuinely surprised. The search so far had been a complete bust.

“We believe it might be carved into a stone in Nepal,” Sam replied, holding up a Men of Letter's folder. “An angel seemed to have been there a long time ago. An angel with the task to find the divine. It fits the bill. At least better than anything else we've dug up so far.”

“It seems plausible,” Castiel added.

“Sounds good enough to me,” Dean agreed. “When will you be leaving?”

“Right away. Time is of the essence.”

“Wait, are you sure? Shouldn't you rest a little bit? It's already late, stay the night and you can leave tomorrow,” Sam proposed worried.

“I'm fine. The sooner I find my grace the better,” Castiel rejected the offer. He threw Sam a pointed glance, reminding him that Sam had an important task to deal with himself. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Anytime. Let us know what you've found out,” Dean said.

“I will,” Castiel replied, before he left the brothers to themselves again.

“Geek boy lived up to his name yet again,” Dean commented, half mocking half proud.

“I just hope it's the right one,” Sam said.

He couldn't look into his brother's eyes, not after his conversation with Castiel. How will he ever be able to tell Dean the truth? Castiel's absence seemed deafening now, paralyzing even.

“Did something happen?” Dean asked perceptively.

“N-No, no, just-” Sam muttered. “No.” He lamely finished.

“Uh-huh,” Dean voiced not convinced. “He say something to you?”

“No,” Sam replied nonchalant, trying hard to keep the eye contact.

“Is it about the blatant lie you guys were spewing about?” Dean pressed on and his face dared him to deny it.

“I just need some time, Dean,” he breathed heavily. The oxygen didn't seem to fill Sam's lungs no matter how deep he breathed in. He wasn't ready yet to face him.

"Sam, you okay?” Dean mustered him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah,” Sam replied immediately. “Yeah, just tired. I'll be going to bed.” Sam gave Dean a forced smile and left for his room, before he could say anything else, missing Dean's utterly worried expression.

Exhausted he fell into his bed, battling with his inner self as how to proceed with their situation. Cas had been fairly sure Dean would forgive him eventually, but Sam was still too much of a coward to believe him. Shifting and turning he tried to find some piece of mind.

However, hours later he still didn't know any better and by then the only thought capable of forming in his mind was that of Dean finally losing faith in him should he ever find out. That would be the worst outcome for Sam: letting his brother down again.

The thought kept tormenting him, leaving him resigned to the fact that he wouldn't get any sleep tonight.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing Dean in his boxers and a white t-shirt. He hadn't even heard him walk down the floor, the hunter in him scolded.

Without a comment whatsoever he walked toward Sam and lay down beside him. He turned his back to his brother and settled into the duvet.

“Dean?” Sam whispered tentatively to the broad shoulders in front of him, confused.

“Can't sleep with you thinking so loud,” he replied gruffly, not bothering opening his eyes. He was set on sleeping the second his head hit the pillow. Whether that was out of exhaustion or embarrassment not even Dean could tell. “Now shut up and sleep, Sammy. Starting tomorrow we'll use my bed,” he murmured, trying to sound annoyed about Sam's mattress' lack of memory foam.

It took Sam a shockingly long moment to register Dean had actually agreed to sleep together now. And for an entirely different reason his eyes didn't seem to close. Perhaps there was indeed nothing that Dean couldn't forgive him for.


	11. About brunettes, kisses, and aching souls

“What is this?” Sam asked bewildered, walking into the kitchen, still half asleep with hair that looked the part.

It smelled heavenly. Bacon definitely one of the most enticing scents, coupled with those of eggs, pancakes, and coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean chimed, big toothy smile directed at Sam.

Sam had the urge to test his brother with silver just to make sure a shapeshifter hadn't switched places with his usually brooding big brother. But then again, he should have checked him a few days ago already, since his good mood didn't come over night. Yesterday, they had kicked off the night with a home karaoke session, in which surprisingly a lot of Taylor Swift songs came to play. So, if this version of Dean hasn't tried to kill him yet, he should be fine. Especially considering he had had plenty of chances since they were sleeping together now. Even though Sam had been the one proposing it, at first he had still felt a little uncomfortable. That feeling hadn't quite left him even now, but the results spoke for themselves and he would just need to think about very different things when Dean decided to stealth snuggle in the middle of the night again.

“Make yourself useful and set the table would ya?” Dean said while flipping a chocolate chip pancake in midair.

“Sure,” Sam replied, huffing out a smile, shaking his head slightly. “So, 'Shake it off' – should we talk about that?” Sam laughed, remembering Dean's ridiculous dance performance of last night.

“Hey, do not insult the king of karaoke,” Dean responded, coupled with his typical laid-back-I'm-awesome-look.

“Usually you don't really sing to anything that came after the '80s,” Sam commented, sitting down on his chair.

“I think the whole supernatural should shake it off, Sam,” Dean replied easily and slipped the pancake on Sam's plate.

“You seriously made a happy face on my pancake?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Now you're complaining? I remember you refused to eat them unless I made them this way. Made a whole hissy fit about it.”

“Yeah, Dean. That was when I was five-”

“More like twelve.” Dean grunted.

“Whatever,” Sam said dismissively, but couldn't stop himself from laughing, recollecting the memories.

“It's not like we had much to add to the pancakes back then. Money was short. So, I had to come up with things to appease the little shit,” Dean remembered. “Didn't I put leftover pickles in them once?”

Sam groaned at the reminder. “That was one of them most disgusting things you had put together.”

“But you ate it,” he replied smug. “You ate everything with a happy smile on it.”

“You ate everything, period. You still do. Except, of course, everything healthy.”

“Rabbit food is for rabbits, Sam. It's in the name, pay attention,” Dean responded sternly. A roll with the eyes was all he got as a reply from Sam.

“So what's the plan for today?” Sam asked, trying to sound nonchalant. His brother had been more open to the thought of heading out together, if it was still nowhere near connected to a hunt.

“I thought we could head to the river. Bring a couple cool ones and, you know, do nothing, really,” Dean suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Sam quickly agreed.

“Tonight we could go for a bar,” Dean added.

 “Yeah,” Sam said, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, let's do that.”

The plan was quickly put into action, the cooler was stored with their precious cargo at the backseat and Sam had even added a few sandwiches (and pickles). They soon found each other at the deserted river and settled down in a shady spot, safe from the glaring sun, next to the water.

It was hot and humid, but the occasional cool breeze helped to make this a very pleasant day. Dean had been so much more carefree in the last few days than in the last years combined. Sam guessed that Dean finally realized the mark was gone and truly left behind. And even though the guilt of his bloodshed persisted, he started to let it in to deal with, instead of drown it out in a sea of booze. In many ways a healthy and mentally stable constitution allowed him to do so and Dean knew to draw that back to peaceful sleep.

“I think I could get used to this,” Dean said, head rested back, his eyes closed.

“It's nice, yeah, but it's not us, Dean,” Sam objected.

Dean scoffed. “What's us? We're only us when we're covered in blood or monster ooze or grave yard dirt?”

“Look, it's not the sunny side, I admit that, but we're good at it. And I do believe that the world needs us,” Sam replied seriously.

“Not too sure about that, Sammy. We mean to do the right thing, but in the end we're toxic. What happens when one of us is about to die again or gets cursed, you know we'd do anything to save each other and it has been to others' expenses more than once. Hell, I even thought you were willing to damn the world to get the mark off my arm.”

“You'd think that? That I would choose you over the whole world?” Sam scoffed amused. He wasn't that crazy, was he?

“I know I would,” Dean whispered barely audible. Sam missed it.

“How about we promise each other, no matter what, we try to die together? That way nobody tries to resurrect the other and brings doom to the world.” Sam chuckled.

“You want to hold hands while we die, too?” Dean snorted.

“Bite me,” Sam shot back.

“Bitch.”  
  
“Jerk.”

“I think you need to cool down a little,” Dean said, stripping down to his boxers.

“Wh-What are you doing? No, oh no, Dean, no!”

Before he could even get out of his chair, Dean grabbed him and pulled him toward the water. Sam wasn't that easy to manhandle and sure put on a fight, but Dean was willing to drag him into the water alongside him, leaving him with the advantage to side toss him into the river, even though he knew he'd be pulled after Sam.

“Have I mentioned you're a jerk?” Sam groaned, his ass parked in the shallow river bed, drops of water trickling down his hair.

“I think that's what earned you this mess in the first place, Sammy,” Dean replied, splashing another bout of water at him.

“Okay, time out! Can I call a truce long enough to put my clothes in the sun to dry?” Sam pleaded, quickly adding an incentive for his case. “You wouldn't want the car seats to soak river water later, right?”

Dean halted mid splash and after a moment contemplating, he reluctantly agreed letting his victim go.

“Fine. But all is fair game once you're back,” Dean proclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes once he had his back to Dean and made already plans in which ways he was going to pay his brother back.

They ended up wrestling each other on the uncomfortable and tricky rocky ground, falling more than just on a few occasions. It hurt at times, but it was a lot of fun and besides, that's how brothers play it, rough and dirty.

When Sam, lying in the water, kicked Dean's legs off the ground, he jumped him and made sure he'd stay down. He was pinning Dean down by his arms and legs, listening satisfied to the uncomfortable groans his brother made in the attempts to get free.

“Getting rusty, Dean?” Sam panted, smug.

“Never too rusty to take you down,” Dean answered and hurled Sam onto the grassy patch leading into the water, successfully gaining the upper hand. Sam was winded for a second, harshly pressing out air out his lungs once.

“Alright, alright! I give up, Dean,” Sam laughed out of breath.

“Uh-huh, am I to understand this is a real capitulation this time or are you trying to pull me into the water again?” Dean didn't look impressed. He watched Sam carefully for any hint of rebellion.

“It's for real! I swear,” Sam promised innocently.

Dean zoned out for a second, looking down on Sam, his hand pressed onto the part of Sam's chest that marked the anti-possession tattoo.

Sam could see his eyes darkening for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Dean?” Sam called out tentatively, but didn't earn a response. He repeated Dean's name a couple more times, shaking him gently once.

“What?” Dean broke out of his stupor and finally looked up at Sam.

“Something wrong?” Sam wondered whether Dean had been thinking about the night he had been battling the bond upon seeing his tattoo. That night an angry burn had bloomed on his chest over his heart right where the tattoo lay. He wasn't a complete fool to believe his brother had just let it go and forgotten about it. In fact he was surprised Dean hadn't brought it up since it happened, demanding the truth.

“Everything's fine,” Dean replied gruff but flustered. He let go of him, moving to sit on the grass beside him.

Dean's mood took a slight bend after that, however, the atmosphere didn't turn sour and whatever it was that bothered Dean, he battled it out within himself, trying to act normal toward Sam. But Sam noticed the occasional odd look Dean would space out on when he was looking at him or the quick turn of Dean's head to something else whenever he was spotted having watched him. It didn't happen that often, but Sam noticed regardless.

He also noted that Dean became more eager to head to the bar the closer the evening approached. So, by the time they were actually at the almost decent road bar, Dean had gotten them two beers and two shots Tequila within the very first minute. His good mood had returned, even though less carefree than this morning.

“You know I can't drink that, if I have to drive your ass back home later,” Sam said, pointing to the Tequila.

“Yes, you can. Because it's me who's gonna drive your ass home. They're both for you,” Dean replied.

Sam raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You were all excited to come here and now you don't want to drink? How come?”

“I'm still gonna drink, just saying no to the heavy stuff, s'all,” Dean explained half-heartedly and turned to take a sip from his light beer.

Sam kept staring at Dean for a long moment, until the latter caved in and elaborated.

“Trying to cut back a little on the booze,” Dean said, clearing his throat once, averting Sam's scrutinizing eyes.

“That's good, Dean,” Sam replied with a supporting smile, seriously happy that Dean tried to come out of his brooding hole he had been digging himself in.

“Yeah, spare me, Sammy,” Dean responded, looking away. He didn't like admitting that his alcohol intake had become slightly excessive over the last, who knew how long exactly. Whiskey and Scotch had turned out to be a steady companion for a lot longer than he cared to think about.

Sensing Dean's discomfort, Sam opted to lighten the mood back on track.

“So, does that mean I have to drink your share as well?” Sam asked warily amused, nodding to the two shots between them.

“That's right, college boy. Time to relive campus memories.” Dean smirked and handed him the first one.

“You know that I rarely even went to any of those parties?” Sam took the first one reluctantly and emptied it with a grimace. Tequila was definitely not his number one choice when it came to getting drunk.

“Sad part is I believe you. Only you would miss out on the only perks college has to offer.” Dean shook his head in disapproval. He handed Sam the next shot and ordered another two Tequila, before Sam had even finished it.

They played pool for a while with Sam convincing Dean to play just for fun and not hustle the overly drunk apparently recently divorced white collar guy that couldn't even hold his own legs steady, much less the cue. Sam didn't fair much better, having been slipped drinks beyond his limit without taking the extra for Dean's behalf in account.

He took almost fifteen minutes in the restroom, finally leaving it after splashing copious amounts of water into his face, hoping he would sober up a little. When he returned, Dean was not at their table. He took a look around the bar searching for him, trying to ease back on the paranoia that would immediately settle in whenever one of the brothers wasn't there where he was supposed to be.

Not ten seconds later he had found him on the other side of the room, standing close to the bar. He sighed in relief once and shook his head, laughing at his hasty presumption something had happened. But that was how they had been raised. Everyone always had to be accounted for and if something or someone was outside of their carefully structured system, it raised immediate alarm bells. And that hadn't changed decades later. In fact, it had proven to be one of the more important lessons their father had taught them.

He turned to head toward his brother only to stop almost immediately in his tracks. If the slight scare just now hadn't sobered him up, the sight in front of him sure did.

Dean had turned to his side, revealing a gorgeous woman sitting on a bar stool right in front of him. She was rolling her eyes, smiling about what had to be another one of Dean's smooth lines out of his playbook. Her hair was chestnut brown; short, only long enough to curl beautifully behind her ears. She was tall, slender, and had a nice tan to her skin. Her smile was dazzling, white teeth hiding behind lovely lips. The woman was classy, which surprised Sam, considering this establishment and the sort of women Dean normally went after.

Sam's heart dropped to his stomach at the sight. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of Dean flirting with someone tonight. And how stupid was that? Even with all the time Sam could monopolize to spend together with Dean, it didn't erase the fact that Dean was his brother and would always just be that. It would not change the fact that Dean was straight and loved to love women. And it would definitely not change the fact that the feelings he held for his brother were wrong and living a life on the sidelines watching in misery after his brother was a just punishment for that.

His heart broke and for the first time in a long while he wished he could have some space from his brother, no matter how much he loved him. He didn't regret loving Dean, not that that was a choice, he just wished it wouldn't cost him a part of his heart whenever he picked up the pieces after it had shattered once again. There were only so many times you could glue them back together. In the end, Sam was sure, too many pieces would be missing, the rest put back together all kinds of wrong, leaving an ugly, mutilated thing in his chest.

He saw both of them heading toward the door, his brother turned around, looking for him and when he spotted Sam, he gave him a universal sign that said he'd be gone for a while.

Wishing he was back to his overly drunk but happy state from five minutes ago, rather than the less drunk and miserable state he was in now, he went to the bar and ordered a whiskey, downing it and ordering another one, hoping it would put him back on track.

After the third glass the bartender looked at him with an amount of pity which made Sam feel even sorrier for himself, considering that the man had to deal probably with a lot of desperate, lonely drunks everyday and Sam managed to earn the most patronizing look from him he's ever seen.

Deciding he didn't want to be the recipient of that look any longer, he paid his drinks (added a decent tip) and made his way out of the stuffy bar.

He stopped outside for a moment to let the cool air soothe him. Dejected and newly drunk again, he sauntered along the parking lot toward the road, having decided he would walk home. He could use the time it took to get back to clear his head, to be away from the bar, away from the bunker, and, foremost, away from his brother.

A quick text message let his brother know that he had already left and gone home, remembering the accountability thing no matter how drunk and emotional he was.

Only a second after he had sent the text message, he heard a cell phone ring across the parking lot and saw Dean at the Impala, kissing the woman from the bar.

“Just a sec,” Dean mumbled on her lips. He blindly searched for his cell phone in his jeans and fished it out.

“You gonna get that? Now?” The beautiful woman asked, playfully scolding him.

“I have to, sorry, sweetheart,” Dean tried to appease her with his most charming smile and kissed her one more time before he read the message.

Sam could see him frown upon reading the text and look back to the bar.

“Something wrong?” She asked concerned. Her hand brushing over Dean's chest, right above his heart.

“No,” Dean answered absent-mindedly. “Just my brother.”

He turned around to the woman with a look Sam couldn't identify and just stared at her for a minute.

“You're beautiful,” Dean said seriously, his usual playfulness absent.

“I'd take that as a compliment, if you weren't looking so tormented about it,” the brunette replied. She had a small smile on her lips, but she did look a little bit puzzled.

His brother huffed out an almost nervous laugh. The woman joined him with an equal chuckle and then tenderly touched his face with her slender fingers. They looked each other in the eyes for a long moment, none of them saying a word. Dean stroked her cheek affectionately and whispered something to her Sam couldn't hear.

“It's okay. I understand. You can let go with me,” she replied, brushing once again soothingly over Dean's chest. His brother rested his forehead on hers, closed his eyes and sighed once shakily.

They looked so good together it shocked Sam. She was nothing like the women Dean was usually making out with. Even though they had only met just now, she seemed to connect with his brother on an emotional level Sam never thought Dean would allow. She might not have anything against going out with a stranger for the night, but she clearly took her partner seriously and not just as a face that was forgotten the next week.

Which made it a lot harder to stand there and watch them. It was one thing to see Dean chasing loose girls for a night of fun, another to see his brother look so vulnerable with that beautiful woman. He wished he could be the one in his arms now. He wished he could ask him what pained him. He wished he could kiss that look away, just like the woman was doing right now.

He wished he wasn't Dean's brother for the first time of his life.

The brief thought alone made him loathe himself so much more than he had already before he saw them out here. When they started to kiss each other again, far too tender for Sam's liking, he hurried along, not wanting to see them anymore, not wanting to hear them anymore.

He ran away, their next words never reaching him. 

“Tell me her name?” The woman asked softly, carding through Dean's hair.

Dean left butterfly kisses along her neck, working slowly up toward her ear, hovering featherlight over the shell when he answered her almost is if the word would cause him actual pain.

“Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was thinking another five chapters approximately.


	12. Soul meets soul on lovers' lips - Percy Bysshe Shelley

The walk back home hadn't been as sobering as Sam wished, leaving him miserably retching into the toilet. It was still a mystery to him how his 6'4'' tall frame did nothing to increase his alcohol tolerance. Bad enough his brother could outdrink him anytime of any day, even back in college Jess had displayed more than once that she could drink more than Sam. But then again even the average Joe would be emptying his stomach's content by now had he consumed as much alcohol as Sam had. And hadn't that been Sam's goal, well not in the first place, but definitely toward the end, getting drunk that is? Though the vomiting he could live just fine without.

Sam groaned miserably and bumped his head back against the porcelain. He was getting too old for this, counting in hunting years not human years. Were he to live a normal life, the early thirties would most probably be joyous. It's the time to get married if one wasn't already. Time to move on with one's career, to buy a house, have kids. Instead he had been fighting supernatural wars with demons, angels, and monsters, died more times than he cared to think about, and lost too many loved ones, their deaths still haunting him more nights than were sane. He was thirty-two now, sitting next to the toilet, feeling sorry for himself in a magical bunker that stored the supernatural wisdom of decades, without having achieved any of the above mentioned lifetime goals. He didn't have anything.

He didn't have anything, except his brother.

However, not in the way he wanted and despite all that, it was okay, because in the end all he needed was his brother. Whether he reciprocated his feelings or not, it didn't matter. As long as he was breathing and his blood was running through his veins and, maybe if he was feeling especially selfish, a smile on his brother's lips directed at him was all he needed from him. Dean would always be worth all the pain in the world. Sometimes Sam wondered if he wasn't secretly a masochist for loving his brother.

Another false alarm hit him, the woeful sounds of dry heaving echoing through the bathroom.

“That bad, huh?” A familiar voice asked from the open bathroom door.

“Yeah,” Sam weakly confirmed.

Dean stepped further inside the small room, settling next to Sam.

“Man, I will never understand how you can be a Sasquatch and have the endurance of a fourteen-year-old girl.” He patted Sam's back softly.

“Yeah, I've been wondering about that too, while I was throwing up my guts,” Sam said, sighing.

“I think it's the hair,” Dean replied mockingly. He was still brushing gently over Sam's shoulder blades.

“Shut up,” Sam cussed half-heartedly, blindly trying to shove Dean away and missing by half a foot.

This time Sam did have something to expel from his body and Dean was right there to hold him steady, massaging his neck in an attempt at comfort, but refrained, to Sam's dignity, from holding his brother's hair back.

“So, all of a sudden you were just gone, why did you leave?” Dean asked after Sam was okay again. For the moment.

“Looked like you were scoring for tonight. Didn't know when you'd be back,” Sam answered tiredly, his eyes closed, attempting to hold the nausea at bay. “Besides wasn't the same without you.”

Dean looked sorry, perhaps a little bit guilty for leaving his brother, when it had supposed to be a fun night out between them.

“Sorry, Sammy, tonight wasn't the night for that. Should have stayed with you,” Dean apologized, retracting his hand and its soothing motions. Sam felt the loss immediately.

“It's okay,” Sam replied, giving him a weak smile.

The silence stretched for a while and Sam cautiously dared to believe the worst part was over. He tried to reach the sink from the sitting position he was in, but Dean was already there, filling him a cup of tap water.

“Here you go.” Dean handed him the cool liquid.

Sam nodded his thanks and slowly nursed his toothbrush cup of water.

Another couple of minutes passed with neither of them speaking, until Sam broke the silence.

“She was beautiful.”

It took Dean a whole minute before he understood who Sam meant.

“Yeah, she really was,” he replied more to himself than actually to Sam.

He seemed deep in thoughts, watching ahead into Sam's face, but his expression was unreadable.

“Then why are you back so early?” Sam asked softly, not sure if he even wanted to know anything about that woman.

The question had snapped Dean out of whatever it was he was thinking and he cleared his throat once.

“Wasn't that into me after all. Shocker I know. There's a first for everything.” Dean tried to laugh it off, scratching nervously the back of his head, but Sam knew he was lying. He had seen them together. They had clicked more than Sam had been able to bear to watch.

But if Dean chose to lie, who was he to call him out on it. Sam was keeping a bunch of secrets from Dean and even though his brother knew he was hiding something from him, one plea from Sam and Dean was letting up on the topic.

“First time? I remember quite a few times you were kicked to the curb,” Sam teased, laughing, his head resting on the cool bathroom tile's surface.

“Oh, really? You were probably too drunk again to make out the difference,” Dean shot back, not having any of it.

“What was her name? The bleach blond cashier with the long curls? What did she say again? 'I know it's difficult, seeing where all your blood is rushing to, but how about you stare less at my tits and instead nurse your chestnut brain back online so that the following words actually register. I will never ever, not today, not tomorrow, not next month, not in a million years, go out with you. Before that happens I will have a zombie eat my brains out and bath in a sea of mutated human eating mongooses. But until then get your buttercup ass out of here.'”

Sam laughed heartily at the memory, although still trying to be cautious with his upset stomach.

“That bitch was a nutcase!” Dean tried to defend himself, shuddering only thinking about her. “And I still believe the last part was actually a compliment.”

“Whatever it is your pride needs to hear.” Sam actually smirked.

“Tough words for a guy who's just hurled like a girl,” Dean replied, kicking playfully against Sam's shin.

Sam just mumbled an incoherent response. His head tilted back, eyes closed.

“You okay?” Dean asked, watching him closely.

“Yeah, just dizzy. Everything is swirling back and forth, up and down,” Sam explained, uncoordinated hands trying gestures to match his words.

“It just gets worse if you close your eyes. Here, look at me. Pick a spot to fix on,” Dean said, taking a hold on Sam's elbow to steady or just to let him feel he was there.

That was easier said than done. Dean's face held a sea of possibilities to choose from, one more beautiful than the other. Dean's sensual pouty lips one of the most mesmerizing, his freckle sprinkled nose, the many stubbles framing his face, the small crease of concern on his forehead, the beautiful small lines leading to the crook of his eyes, those dark soft lashes, and of course the dazzling emerald rings watching him.

He could recite Dean's face from memory at any time. Could exactly pinpoint the time when something had changed over the years, when the wrinkles started to form and the youthfulness receded in favor of the strong expression of a fully grown and aging man. Could connect each line, each freckle to a certain thought of his, to love and to pain, to hardship and to victory. He could list all the thousands of changes in between hurt, laughter, anger, tears, and worry. And love. So many forms of love. Dean could never speak a word again and Sam would still hear him just as clearly.

There hadn't been a day Sam forgot the tiniest detail. There hadn't been a day he didn't love his brother. And there never will be.

It felt like a physical law, like God's word. No doubt. No misconception. He was meant to love his brother, probably the moment he was born, and he would do so until the very end. Has given him half his life, because his life was Dean's to begin with. He would protect him and care for him. He would move mountains and cross oceans. And he would steal the sun and end the world, if that was asked of him.

Anything for this one person. This person that was everything to him, anything he would ever need. This person that was born his brother. His family. His love. His soulmate. His everything. He needed him to function and to breathe, to hear and to see, to taste and to feel. To live. To exist. Because Sam believed he could never exist in a universe without Dean. A simple law that ruled reality. Every reality. No Dean, no Sam. A simple fact, but powerful enough to destroy any plane of existence. He belonged to Dean and in some way Dean belonged to him.

“Sam?” Dean asked, shock and worry mixed together, the alert evident in his voice. “What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

Sam hadn't even realized that he had become a trembling mess of tears and silent sobs. That he had been holding onto Dean's arm in a desperate vice, trying to anchor himself.

“Hey, Sam, calm down. What's going on?” Dean was almost panicked at this point. “Talk to me, Sammy.”

“You are everything. Everything, Dean,” Sam sobs, holding onto Dean's shirt. “Everything to me. Cannot live in a world without you.”

“Wha- I don't- Why are you saying this, Sammy?” Dean tried to understand Sam's incoherent mumbles and broke his head to find the trigger for his brother's breakdown.

“Because it hurts, it's wonderful, it's hard and it's beautiful, it's all consuming, incredible, fulfilling, and just as devastating,” Sam stumbled over his own words. “I need you, Dean. Need you so much.”

Dean was still helplessly paralyzed. Didn't know what to do or say. Hell, he didn't even understand. The only thing that was crystal clear was that his brother was suffering and somehow he was the reason for it. And the only person who could make it better, make it right again.

“I'm here, Sam. Right here,” he said soothingly and mirrored his mollification with his hands carding through Sam's hair. “You're okay.”

He stared down into watery, red eyes and saw pain and despair, need and love, all at once. It scared him. Dean hadn't been this scared in his entire life. Not when Sam had died, stabbed in the back right in front of him and yet out of reach. Not when he had been in hell and lived decades suffering on the racks. Not when he had dreamed about killing his own brother under the influence of the mark. Not like this.

“Come here,” Dean said, shifting so he could better wrap his arms around Sam. He held him tight against his chest and let him cry out whatever he needed to let go. He offered soothing 'sshs' and 'it's okays' in a hypnotic rhythm and let out a tear of his own in silent companionship.

When the sobs slowly died down and the tears stayed unshed, Dean cradled Sam's head gently back to look into tired eyes and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how that happened. My Sammy bunny cried and bunny Dean was just right there to console him. That resulted in plot bunny doing whatever it wanted.


	13. Animus

When Dean's lips met his for the first time they tenderly ghosted against the soft flesh. Sam could feel Dean's shallow breath and the slight tremble of hesitation before he closed the last inch separating them and kissed him. The kiss was so unexpected and for a long moment Sam didn't even realize what was happening to him. At first it was such a soft, sweet kiss. Sam could feel the emotions of comfort, worry, and protection being conveyed and he could do nothing but bath in that safety. But soon enough it changed into something more intense, Dean tightened his grip on Sam and pulled him closer, chest pressed into his, allowing Sam to feel the rising turmoil brooding inside his brother. In the beginning he had been hesitantly conquering Sam's lips, but after tasting the proverbial blood, he seemed to become hungry for more. Dean pushed him down, following Sam as he leaned over him, never once breaking the contact between them. He deepened the kiss, darting his tongue out to lick at Sam's lips and Sam allowed him to taste him, allowed himself to enter a cave of treasury he had been dying to explore for the better part of his life. Sam moaned. Lust and confusion owning him. He didn't understand what was happening, he just rode the wave as it came. When their tongues started to dance Sam swore that nothing had ever felt better. Until Dean started to leave a trail of kisses from his jaw down his throat and his hand traveled along his side, getting to know Sam's body in a way it never had. It was as his brain had shut down to only one function now, converting the feelings sent from his nerves on fire where ever Dean touched him to pleasure. With sudden courage, Sam didn't know where it came from, he touched back. Unsure hands brushed over Dean's chest feeding his life long curiosity of wondering what his brother would feel like. Dean's reaction was immediate, groaning, he pressed more onto him as if there wasn't actually the ground underneath them, his hand traveled down Sam's side, cupping his ass, pulling him against his groin, and rubbed eagerly against a similar enthusiastic dick. Sam let out a groan of arousal of his own and nuzzled his nose into his brother's hair in an attempt to get him to leave sucking at his pulse point and come back up to kiss him again. Dean complied, moving now easily in a shared rhythm with Sam's lips. When the air slowly ran out and their lungs started to burn Dean reluctantly eased up and rested his forehead against Sam's. For the moment all they could do was breathe. Their eyes were closed, heartbeat fluttering like hummingbirds. Neither Dean's nor Sam's brain was working yet, so they stayed like this for long minutes, neither looking at each other or breaking the silence. Gradually, after another long long moment they retreated, just enough distance to really have a look at the other.

Dean had kissed him out of the blue. Dean had kissed Sam. And Sam hadn't yet processed that piece of information. Dean looked blown and maybe just as surprised as Sam. It looked like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat and after a couple of failed attempts to find the words he gave up again.

Sam wanted to say I love you, wanted to shout it from his lungs, make the world listen to his love confession. But then he stopped. His brain had taken control again and his heart had to sit shotgun on this. It was just hoping they wouldn't crash.

“You kissed me...” He said stunned.

“I- Yeah,” Dean replied, finally realizing what he had done and what repercussions his short circuited action might cause.

“You kissed me!” Sam jumped up to his feet.

“Sam, don't freak out on me,” Dean pleaded, clearly freaking out himself. He followed him up, trying to get his brother to look at him when the latter started to nervously pace around the room.

“Why? Why would you do that?” He asked appalled. Stopping once to turn to Dean.

“It just happened, Sam. I-I don't know why... You were upset and I just...”

“You just kissed me,” Sam finished for him.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed lamely. “Look, you want me to apologize I will, okay? But that- that felt amazing.” He looked surprised and overwhelmed by the fact.

“You don't just kiss me!” Sam sounded like a broken record.

“Okay, hey, I understand this is all really crazy, but calm down. Let us talk about this,” Dean tried to reason.

“I can't believe you did that. This is not right,” he mumbled more to himself.

“That ain't fair, Sammy. You kissed me back! I might have initiated it, but you clearly liked it!” Dean wouldn't let Sam bullshit him. He knew what he had seen, or rather had felt.

“That's not the point,” Sam argued, his mind was already far, far ahead.

“Then explain it to me! I kiss you, you like it and I'm the bad guy?”

“You kissed me, because I was upset,” Sam pointed out as if it was obvious.

“So?”

“You didn't kiss me because you actually liked me. Not like that!”

Dean stayed silent for a moment, apparently debating something with himself silently. “Actually I-I think I kinda do. And I know we're brothers and we shouldn't be doing any of that, but I-” Dean struggled for the right words. “I mean you liked it! God, had I known, I would have done this earlier.”

“You like me?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I'm not really sure what's going on, but I've been thinking about you a lot,” Dean said, trying to wrap his mind around all this himself. “I've been having very,” he cleared his throat, looking down Sam's body, “disturbing thoughts about you.” Sam thought he actually saw him blush.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault...” Sam brushed a hand over his face.

Dean laughed nervously. “What? Me falling in love with you?”

“Don't say that,” Sam said sternly. “You're not in love with me. None of this is real. You would never fall in love with me. You would never kiss me.”

“Why wouldn't this be real?” Dean asked suspiciously. “Sam, what's going on?”

“You kissed me, because I was upset, because I was feeling... too much, needing you and then you kiss me all of a sudden. You didn't do it, because you wanted to. Your feelings are manipulated.”

“Manipulated? So, maybe I don't know exactly what came over me, but I damn well know that I wouldn't just kiss my brother, if... if I hadn't some kind of feelings for him.”  
  
“That's not you, Dean. You wouldn't do that. You'd never kiss me!”

“I guess I just did, Sam,” Dean shot back. “What exactly is your problem, apart from the whole your brother kissed you thing? I know you were into it, so that's clearly not what's freaking you out.”

“I told you I needed you and then you kiss me. You did it, because you felt the need to placate me in that way. It wasn't actually you that wanted it, it was me!”

That sent Dean's brain to a hold.

“What?” He looked at him utterly confused. “What're you talking about?”

“It's my fault,” Sam mumbled, desperate. “I- I did something to us!”

Dean stepped forward and grabbed Sam by his arm roughly.

“Spit it out, now,” Dean demanded. His expression was impassive. He was waiting for Sam to come clean.

“I did something to our souls.” Sam swallowed. He tried to gather the courage to tell him. “I bound your soul to mine,” Sam confessed. The admission was finally out and Sam felt helpless and scared. He didn't know how his brother would react. He panicked. “When you had the mark I had to find a way to get rid of it. And when I found Cain he told me it was too late. That you turning into a demon was the mark's way of keeping you alive after Metatron killed you. So even though he could help you, there was no chance of you surviving it. And then I looked around and found this book. It described how souls could be bound together in order to share life force. You have to understand, you were ready to die, Dean. You were giving up and I couldn't let you. After all we've been through I just couldn't. So I talked to Cain and he was willing to do the spell while he removed the mark in exchange for his death.” Sam looked distraught, he couldn't look into Dean's eyes. “I bound your soul to mine, Dean. I- I didn't know what else to do.”  
  
Dean was silent. He was staring at the ground, letting Sam's words ring in his ears.

“Say something,” Sam pleaded, the silence stretching further and further. “Please, anything.”

Dean slowly looked up into Sam's eyes. His face unreadable. He took a deep breath and exhaled his next words. “I know.”

An earthquake could have hit them at that moment and Sam wouldn't have moved, couldn't have moved an inch.

“What?”

“I said I knew,” Dean replied. “Known for a while. Not the specifics, but I kinda figured you did something with my soul.”

“How?” He swallowed.

“Cain had said something that was bothering me. Then you were acting all kinds of weird, I was feeling... different and the last confirmation I needed that something was going on Cas delivered on a silver platter. First he's all moth to the light and then suddenly he goes 'there is no light'. Really? You honestly thought I hadn't figured out something was going on?”

“I hoped you didn't,” Sam meekly answered. “So, you knew from the beginning?”

“Sam, I don't know how oblivious you think I am. I am a hunter, been one long enough to realize when someone is doing a spell on me. My Latin might not be as good as yours, but I still do understand what 'Animus' means.”

“Soul,” Sam muttered. It was part of the spell Cain had recited.

“Yeah.” It had been the last word Dean heard before he blacked out. “So, when were you going to tell me? Were you going to tell me?”

“Eventually,” Sam replied, biting his lip.

“Well, I guess I can only take your word for it,” Dean said, a little pissed.

“I thought you hadn't noticed anything was different. Thought it was better that way.”

“You don't get to decide for me, Sam. Bad enough you kept silent about this, you never even asked me if I was okay with sharing my soul with you,” Dean replied angrily.

“I know it was wrong to do this without telling you, but if it's an apology you're looking for, you're not gonna get it from me.” Sam stood tall, keeping his eyes steady on Dean's. “It was the only way to save you. And although I feel sorry for taking the choice away from you and forcing a life on you you probably would have never wanted, I promised myself back then I wouldn't apologize for saving your life. I don't regret it, no matter how screwed up the rest is, you're alive and mark free and that's all that matters.”

“I'm not angry, Sam. Well, I am, but more about you not telling me than anything else,” Dean said.

“Why? How can you not be angry about this?” Now Sam got agitated again. “I practically chained you to myself!”

“Don't be overly dramatic. Our souls are connected, so what? Weren't we soulmates or some cheesy crap like that to begin with? Doesn't make much of a difference now, does it?”

“Wait until you hear this.” Sam shook his head at Dean's insouciance. “Did you know I can't bear to be separated from you? Like at all. I get miserable and emotional just from missing you. The further you go, the longer the separation, the harder it gets for me.”

“Dude,” Dean admittedly had to concede that was a tough one. “You miss me that much?” He smirked.

“This is not funny, Dean. I hang on every word you say, get all messed up, and I don't think I could sleep by myself any longer now that we started sharing a bed,” Sam said furiously.

“That was your idea,” Dean pointed out.

“That was more for your sake than mine, Dean, and you know it,” Sam shot back.

“Okay, alright, I see your point. So, the bond makes us a little bit more aware of each other. Big deal,” Dean played it down.

“I don't understand how you can be so laid back about all this,” Sam was beyond himself.

“And I don't understand what you want from me. First you tell me that you wouldn't apologize, but then you're angry that I'm not angry.”

“It's just, I have a hard time forgiving myself for what I've done and common sense says you should too.”

“Look, this soul bond thing beats the Mark of Cain anytime,” Dean replied. “I rather live the rest of my life with you attached to my hip than one day longer as a blood thirsty psycho.”

Sam went silent at that.

“What is it?” Dean looked warily at him. He didn't know how many more of those bombshells he could take.

“You don't exactly have a lot left of the rest of your life,” Sam said, tormented by that fact.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked carefully.

“Means you're living on the rest of my life than actually yours. I could only give you so much of my life force,” Sam explained with reluctance.

It took Dean a moment to understand what Sam had meant by that, but when he did he was furious.

“Are you telling me you gave me years off your clock?!” Dean was practically jumping out of his skin. “How many?!”

“I don't know, Dean. It's not an exact science. Nobody knows how long they have left. I can't tell you exactly,” Sam said, trying to sound placatory.

“How about unexactly then!” Dean wouldn't be fooled by Sam's feigning of ignorance.

“Half of the rest of my life.”

“You gave me half your life?!” Dean shouted infuriated. “You wanted to see me angry, now I'm angry!”

“Look, Dean, it's no big deal, okay. I have, what, forty years left?” Sam said appeasing.

“No, Sam, now you have twenty left!”

“So do you, Dean! You had nothing and now we have twenty. Twenty long years! That's enough for me.”

“It shouldn't be and you damn well know it.”

Sam shrugged, he had one argument left in his arsenal that was a sure win and he knew it.

“Would you feel the same way about this, if it were the other way around?”

Dean shook his head angrily. Of course he would have given Sam half his life in a blink of an eye. He just didn't like his brother to have made that sacrifice.

He took a deep breath to somewhat calm down before he continued.

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Actually there is. I know I said it's hard for me to separate from you, but we have to find a way to bring more space between us.”

“Why?”

“Because as I said, the bond has some side effects and it's starting to mess with your head,” Sam carefully laid out.

“I think I'd know, Sammy,” Dean said, not liking where this was headed at all.

“That's exactly it, you wouldn't,” Sam argued. “You are starting to behave differently.”

“Is this about the kiss?” Dean asked perceptively.

“Partly, yes. Mostly,” Sam admitted.

“So what, you think I only kissed you because of the bond?” He asked, finding this too ridiculous.

“You telling me you kissed me because you're in love with me?” Sam scoffed. “I don't think so.”

“How would you know?” Dean shot back angrily.

“Oh, I know, Dean. Believe me I do. I know exactly how it feels like to be in love with your brother. I've been in love with you my whole life!”

Dean stared at Sam stunned.

“Is that true?” He couldn't comprehend Sam had been in love with him all this time. That would have meant he had been just as oblivious as he had denied to be.

“Yeah, Dean, all my life,” Sam said almost sadly.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Sam scoffed again. “How do you tell your brother you're in love with him?”

Dean could acknowledge his point.

“When I asked you why you kissed me, you said you didn't know, that I was crying and you felt compelled to do it.”

“Not my words, Sammy,” Dean objected immediately.

“Let me tell you why I kissed you back. I kissed you, because I love you. You kissed me, because you couldn't bear to watch me suffer.”

“I _wanted_ to kiss you! And you're right I don't like seeing you suffer, but that's not exactly a reason to kiss your brother.”

“So, you wanted to kiss me, because you oh so feel attracted to me?”

“Kinda, yeah. And you could be less a bitch about it,” Dean replied pissed.

“Funny, because I remember you making out with another woman just hours before. Do not tell me you see me that way.”

“She looked like you, Sammy! I hit on her, because she kinda looked like a female you. Brown hair, broad smile, dimples, and tan skin? Remind you of someone?”

“I think that's a whole lot convenient for you. What about the others?”

“I haven't slept with anyone since way before we got this thing off my arm. I tried, fuck, I tried, but every time I would get to the good stuff, I always had to think about you! I've been thinking about you non-stop, it seriously messed up my game.”

“Since when?” Sam demanded. “Since when have you been thinking about me?”

“I don't know. A while-”  
  
“It isn't about a month by any chance? Because that's when I bound your soul to mine,” he interjected with an ugly smile.

Dean wanted to deny it right away, but the words were stuck in his throat when he realized it really had started after he had gotten rid of the mark.

“Maybe I believe you that you honestly feel something for me, but I need to make sure this is real. Have you ever thought about me, looked at me that way, before I tied you to me?”

Again Dean couldn't answer, because as much as he hated to admit it to Sam, he never had.

“I always loved you Sam.”

“Not like that, Dean. Not as brothers.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed. “Does that really matter? I like you now.”

“You like me now because of the bond. Not because of me.”

“Oh come on, you think the bond made me fall in love with you? That's ridiculous.”

“I don't think it is.”

“Sam, you don't know-”

“I do, Dean! I've studied everything there was to know about soul bonding. That's why I know you don't really love me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“One of the things the bond does is manifest itself in one's core personality traits. For me it's my dependency towards you. I just can't let you go. The need to be with you. Always. To keep loving you with all I've got. For you it has always been about protecting me, taking care of me. You always do everything to make sure I'm okay. You put me above your needs, you sacrifice everything for me. You always find a way to make your acts derive out of my wellbeing. I get sick you take care of me. I break down you hold me in your arms. I ask you to let me keep secrets from you you let me. I propose to sleep together you do it. I cry my heart out because I love you too damn much and you kiss me! You always do what keeps me save. Be it from physical harm or emotional. That's how I know, Dean.”

“Spare me the whole psych 101 crap, Sammy. I know what I feel and there isn't any stupid spell that would make me fall in love with my brother. I am able to have feelings of my own, you know,” Dean argued, angry. “So the time line is a little bit screwed up, but it's also actually the first time we took some real time off. We got to be together and not fight a knight of hell, or, or a Leviathan invasion, or get sucked into an angel war!” Dean yelled. “I fell in love with you, so how about you quit your emo yapping and we actually get to make something good out of it.”

“I can't. As much as I want to believe you, I know better,” Sam said, putting his foot down.

“You've got it all figured out, don't you, Sammy?” Dean replied bitterly. “You know that you're a selfish little bastard?”

“Say what you want. I can't take advantage of you like this, no matter how much I want this to be real.” Sam bit his lip, averting his brother's glaring green eyes.

“How about you stop deciding for the both of us and let me have a say in matters that concern me as well,” Dean responded angrily.

“You'd just try convincing me that you actually fell in love with me,” Sam said, shaking his head as if it were the absurdest thing.

“Damn straight.” His eyes were piercing with determination.

“You can't,” Sam simply said. Disheartened he walked toward the door. “I really would love nothing more, Dean, believe me. It's breaking my heart, but I rather walk out now than see what I've turned you into because of my selfishness.”

“Where do you think you're going? You said it yourself, you can't leave me, the bond doesn't let you,” Dean pointed out, voice hard and unyielding.

“Just let me clear my head okay,” Sam replied exhausted. “I'm not leaving you. This is all just a lot to take in, alright?”

“Suit yourself,” Dean said, stubborn and pissed.

Dean wouldn't even look at him anymore and Sam couldn't hold it against him. No matter what Dean said, Sam couldn't believe him. It wasn't all self-loathing that made him unable to accept his brother's words, self-preservation played another big part in this. What would happen if he gave his heart so openly to his brother only to have it crushed the moment his worst fear became true and Dean actually didn't love him, but the bond made him? He didn't think he would survive that.

So, he looked at his brother's now turned back once more, sighed, and left.

 

 

Sam had been tired and emotionally through the ringer and hadn't he just emptied his drunken guts, he would have gone for a drink. Not that he could anyway, because in his hurry out he left not only his brother behind, but everything else as well. Maybe if he hadn't escaped the bunker as if something was chasing him, he would have taken his wallet along. Maybe he would have thought about bringing his jacket with him. Maybe he would have remembered his cell phone that was in said jacket. And maybe he would have noticed that he had gone outside without his gun. Maybe that would have helped him when he was jumped only fifteen minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I should have used the term Anima rather than Animus, since it should fit better, but I think Animus works as well, even though I never had Latin. So if somebody knows better, you can tell me, I'm always eager to learn more, but I probably won't change it at this point. Animus sounds better anyway in my opinion ;)
> 
> And thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos! Really keeps me going!


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